Unexpected Opportunity
by SkittlezLvr79
Summary: Post RAW August 18, 2014. Seizing an unexpected opportunity could either fix everything or shatter it beyond all repair. No Slash.
1. Disbelief

**Author's Note: As with all my multi-chapter fics this probably won't be updated as quickly as Narratives is. A lot more effort and editing goes into multi-chapter stories so the story being told is the one you want to tell. This was inspired by a conversation with the amazing Wencho 17. If you're a Shield fan and haven't already, you should really check out her stories.**

 **Summary: Post RAW August 18, 2014. Seizing an unexpected opportunity could either fix everything or shatter it beyond all repair. No Slash.**

 **Disclaimer: I could only wish to own them but alas, I don't. The characters belong to Vince McMahon and the WWE. No infringement is intended and no profit is being made from this.**

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 _ **The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life-Richard Bach**_

* * *

 _August 19, 2014_

 _Las Vegas Nevada, 6:30pm_

Roman was exhausted yet he refused to sleep or even close his eyes to rest them for a few minutes. He'd been sitting in that seat since his arrival at twelve thirty in the morning, a long eighteen hours ago, leaving it only to use the rest room. Not that he even wanted to leave it then. He was afraid that if he left, something would happen. That was the thought that kept his burning eyes alert and his numb body poised.

The room was silent except for the constant beeps and whir of the machines. Sounds that were supposed to reassure him but did little to accomplish that. No, it was like every noise they made was mocking him. Tormenting him. Because they shouldn't be happening, not now and not ever.

It wasn't right.

This should have never happened to his brother friend, his brother by choice.

As soon as his eyes landed on the prone, unresponsive body on the hospital bed the only thing he felt was guilt stabbing through his body. Because he hadn't been there when he was needed most. No, he had been sent home by the authority a little while after RAW had started. At the time, it seemed odd. He was in a high profile feud with one of their main players, Randy Orton.

He hadn't questioned it though, which was his stupidity and left, figuring a night to rest wouldn't be the worst thing for him. Turned out he had been very wrong because in hindsight, it all made sense now. The plan to take Dean out had already been in place. They wanted to make sure that he didn't stop them from accomplishing their goal. No better way to ensure that than dismissing him from the show.

Roman had played right into their hands by not putting up a fight about it. By not insisting that he'd stick around. Or ignoring their order and hanging out with his cousins in the locker room. Having a cheesecake feast in catering. Anything so he would have been there to stop what happened.

His eyes drifted back to the unusually still figure on the bed. It was disturbing to see the dirty blonde like that, he was always perpetual motion even during those rare occasions that he slept. The only thing that told him that there was still life inside his friend was the slight rise and fall of the man's chest and the machines monitoring every heartbeat, brain wave and breath. On the plus side, they were all holding steady. Hadn't changed since he arrived at the hospital a little over an hour after Dean had been brought in.

The only reason he hadn't been there sooner was because he had left his phone in his room when he went to the gym. Hadn't checked it when he got back and went straight into the shower. Was surprised when he did check it to find a long list of missed calls, voicemails and text messages waiting for him. He'd only made it halfway through the first voicemail when he grabbed his stuff and left, breaking every traffic law known to man in order to make it to his brother as soon as possible. It was a miracle that he hadn't been pulled over or crashed.

On the frantic drive there, Roman prepared himself to hear the worst. To his immense surprise and relief, when he arrived they told him that his brother was alive. There was no broken neck or cracked skull. The bones in his face had somehow managed to stay intact too. No swelling on the brain and the preliminary tests they had run all came back good.

All of the rest of the tests would have to wait until Dean was awake because they were response based. The only problem was, he hadn't woken up yet which, even the doctor's conceded, he should have. There was no fathomable reason why he hadn't. He hadn't been given any medication to keep him unconscious. The CT scan, EEG and EMG hadn't picked up any medical reason for it so the doctors were hoping it was a case of the body needing rest due to the trauma it sustained.

They weren't calling it a coma yet.

However if Dean didn't wake up by the morning, it would be classified as one. Once it entered that realm, things became very muddled. Coma's couldn't be predicted and had no real course of treatment when they weren't medically induced. The vast range of possible side effects that couldn't be pin pointed. There was a good possibility that Dean wouldn't come out of it the same as he'd been when he went into it.

Roman really needed him to wake up soon to be honest. Not only so he could stop driving himself insane but because the authority hadn't agreed to give him the rest of the week off. They'd only granted him the Smackdown tapings. While Wednesday and Thursday were normally their days off, he had press commitments that he didn't want to go to but Stephanie told him that if he skipped them then they would have no choice but to fire him for breach of contract. If he didn't have a daughter to support he'd tell them to shove it up their ass and quit. The evil bitch had also refused to pull him from the upcoming house shows.

To make his eleven o'clock flight to New York, he'd have to leave in about an hour.

His phone rang and he grabbed it quickly, seeing that it was Dolph calling. The showoff had his ear to the ground and had promised to keep him apprised of any fallout from the curb stomp heard around the world. "Hey man, what's going on?

"Just wanted to let you know that my sources have told me that Kane and Rollins were suspended for thirty days. The information will become public tomorrow." He sounded disgusted that it was all they got for what they did. "Triple H and Stephanie had been pushing a week only for Seth but Vince, who realized exactly how much money this could cost him if Dean decides to bring a lawsuit against the company, overruled them."

"Thanks for keeping me updated." He sighed, eyes once again drifting to the still figure on the bed. "At least they got something for that bullshit even if it's just a slap on the wrist. Didn't think the golden boy and their favorite stooge would get anything honestly."

There was a hum of agreement, "How's he doing?"

Roman hedged, not sure if he should go into too much detail but damn it, he really needed to be able to have someone to talk about this with. "Good news is, the neck isn't broken, no sign of brain damage and his skull isn't fractured. So far the tests have all come back the way they should,"

"But?"

"He hasn't woken up."

A heavy silence took over for a few moments before the blonde found his voice. "He's in a coma?"

"They're not calling it that yet but if he doesn't wake up by the morning then it does cross the line into that category."

"Keep me posted on how he's doing."

The Samoan swallowed thickly, "I will and if anything else happens…"

"You'll be the first to hear about it."

Roman hung up and turned his attention to the man on the bed and shook his head. "I really need you to wake up Dean. I need to know that you're really alright before I leave here tonight."

Not so much as a twitch in response.

He raked hands that hadn't stopped shaking in hours through his hair. This whole situation wasn't sitting right with him. There was no mistaking the facts of the attack that had taken place. But the motives were what baffled him. Never would he understand the reasoning behind the attack.

Why the hell had Seth agreed to do something that could have killed Dean? How could he calmly stare down at Dean, a man who had been a friend and brother to him, then drive his head through cinderblocks? What had gone through the two toned man's mind after it happened? Did he feel any remorse for it or fear that he just might have crippled Dean?

Anger boiled in his blood as he realized that he already knew the answers to those questions. No, Seth didn't care and wouldn't feel a shred of remorse. He was all about getting to the top and trampling anything that he perceived as an obstacle in his path. Dean had been a thorn in his side since the sellout betrayed the Shield, had stopped him from cashing in his ill-gotten briefcase numerous times. It probably hadn't taken more than a diabolical Kane mentioning a way to get rid of his problematic rival for good for him to agree without hesitation.

It was a miracle that they failed to get the job done.

But just because there'd been no major injuries, that didn't mean that once the dirty blonde woke up that he'd automatically be fine. There could still be a litany of injuries that wouldn't show up on the test they've already run. Like concussions or nerve damage. A loss of equilibrium. Problems could arise with his vision, his speech could be slurred or debilitating headaches could linger long after this.

Even if Dean didn't show signs of any of those maladies, the doctor's had already informed Roman that he would not be medically cleared to return to wrestling for at least thirty days as a precaution. Head injuries were an unpredictable thing and sometimes problems took a while to present. So no matter what the reaction tests said or what word's of assurance came out of Dean's mouth, they would not take a chance with his health. While they'd dismiss him from the hospital in a few days after he regained consciousness, there'd be follow up protocol that he'd have to meet in order to get cleared. He'd have to see a neurologist within two weeks and take an impact test then do it all two weeks later to confirm or disprove the results.

That brought a little grin to his face. Dean was going to hate it and be a miserable bastard to anyone who even looked at him. The man lived and breathed wrestling. Devoted his life to being in the ring and on the road, hanging with the boys and charming women with his dimples. If he had his choice, he'd wrestle every day of the week. Because he was finally at peace when he was wrestling, his past wasn't on his mind and all those doubts he harbored were pushed to the furthest reaches of his mind.

Having to give that up for any amount of time would be torture to him.

Seth knew that. Had for years, probably longer than Roman. He'd helped the eccentric member of the Shield avoid being looked at by medics when he was injured. Wrapped that faulty shoulder, aching ribs, swollen knee every night once they were back at the hotel room for the dirty blonde. Talked him down when Dean was having a bad day. They used to joke that Seth should just get a nurses and save them the effort of dodging the medical staff.

So how could he be alright with taking the only thing he had in his life away from Dean?

He really wished that he could get his hands on the younger man. Now, he wasn't normally a violent man but the next time he saw Seth, he'd have no issue choking the little brat or smashing his face in with his fist. It was one thing to stab them in the back professionally. They were grown men who'd get their revenge in the ring. But this, this couldn't be considered anything but a personal betrayal.

Roman wouldn't get the chance to take action right now because of the so called architect's suspension but he would as soon as he was back. Until then, he'd have to be content with unleashing his anger and pain on the members of the authority that were still there. Like Triple H. There was no way in hell that the king of kings didn't know about and approve this. Something this malicious and destructive would have been run by him before it took place.

In the hour before he had to leave to get on his flight, he just sat there watching Dean's still body. Hoping against hope that the man would wake up. That he'd get to see that infamous smirk and hear the curse-laden threats directed at their former little brother spill from that gravelly voice. Wishing that he could turn back time and prevent this from happening. Wondering how the hell things could have broken down so badly that it had come to this.

But Dean didn't awaken before he had to go and Roman hated the fact that when he finally did come back to them that no one would be there for him.

* * *

 _Phoenix Arizona 7:30pm_

Seth dejectedly slumped on the sofa in his plush hotel room, his half eaten plate of dinner on the coffee table, in disbelief. He'd been suspended. In all the years that he'd been wrestling he had never been suspended from a company before. There were a couple of times in FCW where his attitude had almost gotten him sent home but that was it. Of course he'd never done something so vile, vicious and potentially life threatening before.

So the punishment fit the crime. Actually, no it didn't. Even he had to admit that he got off easy. After all, it paled in comparison to possibly having your career or life ripped away from you like what Dean was facing. And really, what was thirty days compared to being fired or arrested for assault and attempted murder?

Jesus, he never thought that he'd ever do anything like that. But he'd never been in a situation like this before. Dean was driving him insane with his refusal to back off. He had Triple H and Stephanie breathing down his neck, telling him he needed to finish this feud so he could make good on their plans for him. And then there was Kane, informing him that he had an idea that would get Dean off his back once and for all.

It just felt like he was going to explode if something didn't give.

He agreed with the bigger man. Without a second thought to the fact that the man saying this was known as a monster, as someone who enjoyed destroying people, took pleasure in making them suffer. It never even entered his mind until Kane showed him the set-up that the once and for all part could result in paralyzing or killing Dean. He felt his heart plummet the longer he stared at those blocks, wondering why he'd been so stupid to blindly agree to one of director of operation's plots. But he couldn't back out, he'd lose Hunter and Stephanie's trust if he did and he needed their backing if he was going to make it to the top.

So he stayed the course even though everything in him was screaming not to do it.

In that moment, before he jumped down from the announce table onto the prone dirty blonde, a million different memories of laughter, jokes and brotherly bonding flooded his mind. He really didn't know if he could go through with it. Then different memories shoved them aside, refusing to be ignored. Being repeatedly attacked unexpectedly, looking over his shoulder everywhere he went because he kept expecting Dean to strike and having every chance at cashing in ripped away from him. When they stopped playing through his head, he had curb stomped Dean's head through the cinderblocks.

He got back up onto the table, felt his body posing without his consent but his eyes never left the chalk dusted mess of dirty blonde curls below. His mind was reeling. Body shook. Vaguely, he could hear Charles Robinson and the announcers screaming for the crew in the back to send out help. The referee telling him that he'd gone too far, looking at him in complete disgust.

Seth couldn't argue with that. There was nothing he could say to try to defend himself or his actions. No matter what, no one deserved to suffer what he had just done to Dean. So he kept his mouth shut and his gaze on the fallen man, mentally begging him to stay still until the medics arrived. He was probably seriously injured and if he moved, it could make matters worse.

He didn't remember getting down from the table. Didn't hear the massive negative response directed at him. Couldn't recall walking away from ringside and going backstage. Leaving the arena was a blank spot too. It was as if his body functioned on autopilot through it all because his mind had gone into shock.

His phone rang and he frowned at the display. Hunter was calling him. He didn't want to answer it, was in no mood to listen to the older man gloat but he had to. Taking a deep breath, he accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey kid, how you holding up?"

"I'm fine." It was a lie but a convincing one. He'd gotten really good at that over the last couple of months. Had to if he wanted to prove that he belonged in the authority. "A little peeved that I drove all the way to Phoenix just to get suspended."

"Well, calm down and listen because I have news." The note of triumph in the game's voice made his skin crawl. "I had Joey swing by the hospital, check up on the wounded lunatic before he left Vegas."

His eyes widened because that couldn't be a good sign. "Oh?"

"Ambrose apparently escaped serious injury, damn cockroach that he is, but he hasn't regained consciousness and the doctor's have no clue if he ever will." There was fucking pride in the king of kings tone that made his stomach heave. "Looks like his days of being a problem are over. Reigns however will probably look to pick up where Ambrose left off. But there's no need to worry about it."

Wrong, because he was worried.

But not about any possible retaliation. Anything Roman did to him was well deserved and welcomed. Hell, it was a more fitting punishment than the thirty days suspension was. It would hurt a hell of a lot more. He already knew that the next superman punches he was on the receiving end of would probably break his face and those spears would be delivered with the intent of shattering his ribs.

No, he was worried about Dean.

How could he not be after hearing that?

"You still there kid?" The deep voice on the other end of the phone brought him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, just kind of in disbelief…"

"Well, shake it off and go celebrate your victory." He could hear the sleazy smile through the phone and wondered again if the older man missed having a soul. "Then take this time off to rest up, relax and think about what you're going to accomplish when you get back."

Seth gritted his teeth, a flare of hatred shooting through him. He was making this sound like it was a damn vacation and not a punishment for a heinous action. In that moment, he really wanted to tell Triple H off but he refrained. "Will do."

"See you in a month." With that, Hunter hung up.

As soon as his phone was in his pocket, he got to his feet and grabbed his suitcase. He scanned the room, making sure he wasn't leaving anything important behind. Satisfied that he wasn't, he headed toward the door.

There was someplace he really needed to be.


	2. Remorse

**_There is no refuge from memory and remorse in this world. The spirits of our foolish deeds haunt us, with or without repentance-Gilbert Parker_**

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 _August 20, 2014 8:30 am_

When Seth arrived in Vegas after midnight, he didn't go straight to the hospital. It was well past visitors hours so he knew he'd be turned away. But that wasn't the only thing that kept him from there. He needed time to prepare himself, to talk himself into actually going through with it. So he'd sat at an all night diner a block away from the hospital, drinking coffee and consuming a hell of a lot of greasy comfort food because he needed it in that moment.

At about six this morning, his stomach feeling like it was about to burst, he took a long walk around the area. He'd stumbled across a gym and decided that he needed a good workout to clear his head. After that he took a shower and let out a deep breath, deciding that if he was really going to do this, it had to be now. Before he talked himself out of going inside and resigned himself to stalking it from afar. When he pulled up to the hospital, it still took him fifteen minutes before he worked up the nerve to venture inside.

He found out that Dean had been moved to a private room.

There was no doubt in his mind that it was Vince McMahon's doing. He wanted to stay on the unstable man's good side right now and that meant making sure that he was well taken care of. The boss made it clear when he had screamed at Kane and him for putting the company in a vulnerable position that if Dean decided to file a lawsuit against the WWE for what happened, that he in turn would fire them then sue them for every penny they had. That he would make sure that no other wrestling company would come anywhere near them. He knew that the owner of the company meant every single word but he didn't care, they deserved it.

Seth leaned against the door, afraid to move or even breath too loudly, eyes fixed on the shockingly still body on the bed. Considering everything, Dean didn't look too bad. There was a small breathing tube up his nose but none covering his mouth. The usual array of Iv's and nutrient drips ran into his arms and there were two circular dots on his forehead to monitor brain activity. The only real sign of what he had gone through was the slightly swollen and ugly discolored area of his forehead.

His eyes lingered on that longer than they should have.

It still shocked the hell out of him that Dean had seemingly survived the attack without sustaining any major damage. If it happened to most people, the outcome would be a hell of a lot worse. But maybe years of Dean willingly putting his body through hell had been the reason he was apparently alright. Or maybe it was the man's refusal to do anything that caused him to bulk up, stating that carrying extra weight on your frame was begging to get yourself injured so he preferred to be lean. Either that or the dirty blonde was really as indestructible as he once claimed to be.

He finally made a move away from the door. The steps that carried him to the chair by the bed were tentative. Lowered his body down into it slowly, eyes never leaving the figure laying there. It was stupid. Even though the eccentric man was unconscious, he couldn't get rid of the irrational fear that he'd spring up from the bed and attack him.

What did he do now? Did he talk? Express the regret he had for doing something so disgusting? Would it even count as an apology since Dean wasn't awake to hear it? Was telling the other man while he couldn't hear it just a way for him to get rid of the weight he felt bearing down on his chest?

For once the architect was at a loss for once in his life. There was no grand plan. No schemes. He didn't have a strategy. Nothing to fall back on at all.

The door opened and an older nurse came in, stopping when she saw him. "Oh, you weren't who I was expecting."

A slight frown tugged at his lips as he wondered if she knew who he was and that he was responsible for Dean's condition. "What do you mean?"

"When they said that someone was in with Mr. Ambrose, I just figured it was that big guy who had been here with him since right after he was brought in." She stated with a smile but that quickly disappeared as she continued. "Or the angry one who called several times, yelling about his employee having the best care and demanding that he be updated on his condition throughout the day."

"Oh," Relief coursed through his body and he offered her a smile that he knew wouldn't look threatening or devious for the first time in months. "Roman, that's the big guy, had to go back to work because, well, you've spoken to our boss. I figured that I'd take over sitting duties since I'm currently on leave. Didn't want him to be alone if he woke up. Hope that's ok? I know that visiting hours haven't technically begun yet -"

"It's fine. The room is private so the rules are a little more lax." She assured him, her tone motherly and kind. "Plus, the best medicine for him is hearing familiar, friendly voices."

"You think he can hear me?" That alarmed him because if it was true then the sound of his voice might cause distress. He really didn't want to add that to the already mile long list of offenses that he was guilty of. "Or that he'd even be able to recognize my voice when he's in…he's unconscious."

"I know he can." She picked up the long paper graph and indicted to a line that was slightly elevated compared to the rest. "You see that right there? His brainwaves show increased activity right now. It's a direct response to the sound of a familiar voice which is a positive sign."

His eyes widened at the print out. "Then how come he hasn't woken up?"

"There can be a number of reasons but in cases where the patient has suffered severe trauma, like Mr. Ambrose did, it's not uncommon for them to be unconscious longer."

"Is it considered a coma?"

The nurse sighed, "As of right now, no."

"I feel like that has a but to it."

"However; if he doesn't awaken in the next few hours then it will enter that territory. After that, the next twenty four hours become crucial. If by that point he doesn't wake up, the doctor will request a meeting with his family to go over all possible situations including movement to a long term care facility if it's needed."

"Dean doesn't have any family." He muttered quietly, heart sinking in his chest at the wave of crushing guilt that surged up inside him.

It wasn't a lie.

Not really.

Dean had cut off all contact with his mother years ago, when he decided as a teenager that it was better to be homeless than living with a drug addict who was rapidly spiraling down. His father had never really been in his life, spending more time in prison than he ever did with his son. From the brief times that the dirty blonde had spoken of his family, he made it clear that he felt it was better if they had no involvement in his life at all. That meant that he would not want or trust them to be in charge of making medical care decisions for him.

He raised haunted eyes to the woman, nervously shifting. "What would happen in that case?"

"Does he have a girlfriend or fiancée?"

"No." He bit his lip, hoping against hope that in case any decisions needed to be made, Dean had listed one of them as his next of kin on his emergency contact information. If not, he had no clue what that would mean for the dirty blonde. "There's only Roman and me."

The nurse must have picked up his increased distress because she gave his arm a comforting pat. "I honestly don't think that it'll come to that. Your friend is strong, this was not a minor incident but he made it through with barely a scratch. Have faith that he'll wake up and when he does, he'll pass the rest of the tests."

"It's harder than I'd thought it would be." Seth confessed, swallowing thickly, hands wringing nervously. "Seeing him like this. So still and quiet. Dean's never still, there's always a part of him that's moving and he hardly ever shuts up once he knows and is comfortable around you. Always cracking a joke, making a quip, telling a story or singing out loud."

A tissue entered his field of vision and he blinked, just now feeling the wetness trickling from his eyes. "It's alright to be worried about your friend. There's nothing wrong with crying."

"I just…" But the words choked off in his throat as a groan sounded through the room.

Both him and the nurse turned their attention to the bed, staring intently. For a minute there was no other sound and he wondered if that groan was nothing more than his guilt-ridden mind playing tricks on him. He was about to give up when he drew in a sharp breath, seeing Dean's fingers flex against the blanket. His heart started racing as he witnessed the man lying there scrunch his face in pain and emit another groan. Eyelids slowly peeled open but slammed shut against the harsh hospital light as a hiss tumbled over parted lips.

"Looks like your friend is waking up." The nurse gave him a grin. "I'll be right back, I'm going to get his doctor."

Seth thought he nodded but he might not have. He was fighting a battle inside himself, feeling like he'd been splintered into fragments. Part of him, the part that he really hated, wanted to get the hell out of there before Dean saw him now that he knew that the man was out of the woods. But the other part, his long ignored human side, wanted to sprint over to the dirty blonde's bedside and pull him into a bear hug. Then there was a voice in his head that was screaming at him to call Roman and let him know about this development.

The only thing he knew for sure was that he was definitely ignoring that last voice. Calling the oldest member of the trio would be a disaster. The Samoan man would not be happy to hear from him and even less happy that he was there with Dean. That would probably end with Roman showing up on his doorstep and murdering him on next time he had a day off. Since he didn't want to die anytime soon, he'd leave it to the hospital or Dean to do the honors.

"Fuck."

The raspier than normal curse brought him back to reality and he found himself moving toward the sound without a second thought. "Dean? You alright?"

"My throat hurts."

Seth grabbed the pitcher of water off the table and poured some into the cup and placing a straw into it. He placed the tip of the straw against pale lips, "Take a drink but do it slowly."

Blue eyes cracked open and looked at him, blinking a few times to get in focus then followed the instructions given to him.

Seth didn't see any hatred in those expressive orbs as they stared up at him. No murderous intent turning them stormy like there had been since the betrayal. They looked a little confused and slightly glassier than normal though. He took the straw away and gave the dirty blonde a tremulous smile, his flight instinct urging him to step away. "The doctor will be in a couple of minutes to check on you. Just relax and try to stay calm until then ok?"

"Huh? What? Doctor?" It was asked in a voice that was reminiscent of sandpaper. Rough and scratchy. He attempted to move and the IV in his arm much have pinched. "What the hell?"

"Something happened and they needed to bring you to the hospital." He knew how much Dean hated hospitals and had to let him know that there was no other option. "There was no way around it."

Suddenly, the confusion lessened as did the glassiness. Those eyes were almost crystal clear, had narrowed slightly and his fingers began to pluck at the fabric of the blanket in all too familiar tic of agitation. "I remember now."

Seth gulped, taking a step out of swinging range. "I can explain-"

"Fucking Wyatt."

He frowned and figured that he'd heard that wrong. That had to be it. Between the beep of the machines and the lower than normal voice, it was easy to misunderstand. "I didn't quite catch that man. What did you say?"

"Wyatt did this to me, didn't he?" A sharp note of anger threaded through his tone.

That caused the alarm to sound in his mind. Dean hadn't been in the ring with Bray since the Shield feuded with the freaky family. Which was before their war with Evolution. His hands shook violently as he roughly wound his fingers into his fading blonde patch, tugging at it. "What?"

"We fought out of the out into the stands and somehow made it outside, still pounding away on each other." His face screwed up in thought. "But everything's blank after that."

Holy shit! Dean was talking about the match at Elimination Chamber. The match that happened back in February. Almost six months ago. This was bad, really bad, mind numbingly bad. All he could do was repeat his earlier question as he worriedly stared down at the man on the bed. "What?"

"Head's killing me so the wannabe cult leader either hit me over the head with something or rammed my head into something until I blacked out." A hint of a smirk twisted his lips and his eyes lit up. "Unless this headache from hell is because we hit up a bar after we dispatched of those damn Wyatt boys."

"We lost." He mumbled, eyes wide and frightened now and the words flowed helplessly from his mouth. "There was no celebrating or commiserating. Didn't even know where the hell you were for hours."

Seth was spared from having to say more when the doctor entered the room. Dr. Johnson introduced himself and asked for a few minutes alone with his patient to examine him. He shakily followed the nurse out of the room and dropped down into the chair, his entire body trembling and boneless.

The older lady put her hand on his shoulder, "What's wrong?"

"Something's not right!" His voice shook and cracked. "He doesn't remember, thinks it's six months ago."

"That's common with patients who suffered a blow to the head. It usually clears up anywhere between a few hours to a few days. Never seen it last more than a week."

"But what if it doesn't go away?" The question was practically whispered. "What if he never remembers?"

"Despite what television and movies portray, the odds of that happening are very slim."

"It could happen though."

She shook her head, "It could but it won't. He'll remember. You've just got to relax and give it time. Remember, he just woke up after being unconscious for nearly two days due to a head injury. Things are bound to be a little fuzzy for him."

He ran his hands over his face roughly. "It's just hard…"

The door to the room opened, cutting him off and he jumped to his feet, anxious eyes imploring the doctor for good news as he stepped outside. "Well, how is he? Is there any damage? What bout his memory?

Dr. Johnson held up a hand with a chuckle. "I can't answer anything if you don't stop asking."

"Sorry."

"I can't go into specifics because that would be a HIPAA violation but I can tell you that the signs are very encouraging so far, more tests will need to be run before we're positive of anything."

"But the memory loss?"

"Is not uncommon at this point given the amount of time that he was unconscious for and the blow he sustained to his head." Dr Johnson stated flatly. "Mr. Ambrose will be undergoing a series of tests later that will provide more answers about any possible injuries he sustained and if there's cause for concern."

Seth knew that was all he'd get out of the doctor on that subject, so he decided to change it to something else he was worried about. "When will he be able to be released?"

"If all goes well with the tests then I don't see why Mr. Ambrose wouldn't be released tomorrow afternoon but he will not be medically cleared to return to his job until he meets all the terms and conditions of the concussion protocol."

"Which are?"

"As I explained to Mr. Reigns, due to the nature of his injury and his chosen profession then we have to proceed with caution. While we'll release him from the hospital, he will have to see a neurologist and complete an impact test within the first two weeks then the results must be confirmed within the two weeks following that with a follow up visit and a second round of testing."

He dragged a hand through his hair. That meant that Ambrose wouldn't receive medical clearance for almost a month. There was no way in hell if left to his own devices that Dean would accept or comply with those terms. He'd find some half-ass doctor to clear him as soon as possible and never bother with the follow up tests. "He lives alone, are there any chances of setbacks or problems arising after his release?"

"Head injuries are unpredictable so there's no way to give a firm answer on that." Dr. Johnson conceded. "I would strongly encourage Mr. Ambrose to stay with or have someone stay with him until after his first neurologist visit."

He thanked them and watched as they walked away. His mind already starting to sort through the information he had been given and make plans. Because that's the only way he could cope with this situation. To keep himself from freaking out. So that's what he did as he sat there with his head in hands.

Roman would be the first and only real choice to take on the task. Him and Dean had become best friends since Seth's betrayal. They were a hell of a lot closer now than they had been during the Shield days when it seemed like they'd kill each other. No way would he allow the dirty blonde to skip out on his obligations on his road to recovery. He'd make sure that the eccentric man followed the doctor's advice to the letter so he could come back better than ever.

There was two problems with that scenario though.

First problem: Roman had a wife and a daughter waiting at home for him. Ones that it drove him crazy to be away from for long periods of time and to know that he was missing so many significant moments in his daughter's life. He valued the couple of days a week that he got to spend with them, the rare opportunity to just be a normal husband and father during those days. Because he didn't get enough of that. While he'd definitely give it up to take care of his best friend for a while, it would take a toll on his family life.

Second problem: the authority would never give him an entire month off. Not only because they detested the Samoan man but because it wasn't best for business. Especially with Seth being suspended and Dean not being able to gain medical clearance. It left the company without two of the company's three main work horses and without it's hottest current rivalry. That forced them to rely on Roman to pick up the slack by making his feud with Randy the top thing on TV.

His mind shifted to the next option.

Dean had other friends. A lot of them. You couldn't travel to a state and not have the dirty blonde know at least one person who lived there. But most of those friends were fellow wrestlers and had their own families and commitments to worry about, working regular jobs through the week and wrestling wherever they could on weekends. The ones who didn't wrestle or have families were the ones who were still heavy into partying. Not to mention that from what he witnessed, Dean didn't seem to be exceptionally close to any of those friends anymore.

That left no one but Seth to do it.

It was the simplest solution really. He was already out for thirty days. Wasn't permitted to do media or anything pertaining to the company during that time. Had no wife or children to worry about, sure he had his dog Kevin but his mom wouldn't have an issue keeping him until he was back home. That meant that he had nothing but free time on his suspended hands.

The big issue with him being the one to look after Dean was the fact that he was responsible for putting the man in this situation. He was the enemy, the man who betrayed his brothers. Yeah, Ambrose didn't remember that right now but the doctor and nurse were sure that it was only temporary. If he remembered before they released him, there was no way in hell he'd ever agree to it no matter what was said. And if he regained his memory once he was home, well, Dean probably beat the ever loving shit our of him and bury him in his back yard.

But that human side that Seth had spent the last two months ignoring, the one that missed real companionship and brotherhood, told him that he had to grab hold of this opportunity to make it up to Dean. That taking care of the dirty blonde was the least he could do since it was his fault. He owed it to the other man to make sure that he came through it intact and with a clean bill of health. Whispered that maybe, just maybe, this act of atonement could fix things between them. Get them to a place where they weren't trying to destroy each other anymore.

That was why he decided to say screw the consequences and do it.

Now, he just had to go back into the room and tell Dean. Make him understand that this was what was best. Hopefully the older man wouldn't put up a fight. But he had a feeling that he would. Dean was nothing if not stubborn and enjoyed living alone, not having anyone around to police his activities and lecture him when he wasn't doing what he was supposed to.

Seth got to his feet and took a deep breath, steeling himself to do battle.


	3. Omission

**Author's Note: I got a few questions about the relevance of the quotes that start the chapters. Basically, I just feel fit the tone of the story overall and not specific to just the chapter they're posted with.**

* * *

 ** _A lie is just the truth waiting to be itself.-Terri Guillemets_**

* * *

 _August 20, 2014 4:30 pm_

Seth rubbed his temples as he listened to Dean bitch about the tests they made him undergo and how it was nothing more than a conspiracy to line the hospital's pockets with money because there was nothing wrong with him. The tirade was nothing new. He'd heard it a million times before. It was Ambrose's standard go to anytime someone even suggested to him that he might want to get checked out for something that was bothering him. That meant that he knew if he didn't interject that it would keep going on.

He lifted his head and cleared his throat pointedly. Those blue eyes snapped over to him and locked onto his. A weak smile curved his lips at the injured man's attention. "You should call Roman. He called the hospital while you were taking those tests and the nurse updated him on your condition. He's probably going out of his mind with every minute that he hasn't heard from you since then."

Actually he knew that Roman was worried. The nurse had told him that the big dog practically freaked out when they told him that Dean was awake but was suffering from some memory loss. She spent a considerable amount of time reassuring the Samoan, as she had done with Seth earlier, that it wasn't uncommon in cases such as his. But she did advise him that he should not mention the memory loss to the dirty blonde when he called because the doctor wanted to wait until tomorrow to address it with his patient once the results of all his tests were in. While the big man hadn't been happy about it, he reluctantly agreed because it was what was best for his brother.

"You haven't talked to him?" Dean frowned, obviously thrown by that. "I thought for sure that the two of you would've been on the phone the entire time I was stuck being poked and prodded. Having a good laugh at me being forced to stay here until the money hungry vultures decide to release me."

Damn it, there was no way out of this without giving him some of vague excuse. But he refused to lie to the dirty blonde unless it was absolutely necessary. "Roman and I aren't exactly seeing eye to eye right now. Actually, we haven't been for a while so we've gone radio silent."

The smirk that lit the dirty blonde's face was light and teasing. "Huh, usually it's him and I that butt heads and ignore each other. What happened? You use up all his conditioner again?"

"No, it goes a bit deeper than that this time."

That smirk died and blue eyes narrowed in concern. "You need to talk about it bro?"

"No, not right now. You just worry about taking care of yourself and doing what you have to in order to get out of here as soon as possible." He let out a deep breath. "Just do me a favor when you call him?"

"What's that?"

"Don't mention to him that I'm here or even say that I stopped by." Seth had been sure that his visit was no longer a secret when the nurse had mentioned Roman's call but she told him that she forgot to tell Roman that he was there with Dean. Apologized profusely about the oversight. But he told her that it was for the best. That Roman would have been more upset if he had known because they'd had a fallen out. So it was better that he never knew that Dean wasn't alone.

He was relieved to have dodged that bullet.

A deep frown took the place of the previous smirk, "How come?"

"It won't be well received." Once again his answer was vague but the truth. He was doing well so far with not having to lie. "So, will you do that for me?"

"Yeah."

He disconnected Dean's cell phone from charger and brought it over to him. His hand trembled slightly as he passed it to the prone man. "You want some privacy?"

"Why?" His face scrunched up. "Anything I'd talk to Rome about, I'd talk to you about."

Something twisted painfully in his chest. That used to be true until he let himself become obsessed with the spotlight and betrayed the dirty blonde. "Ok."

That was when they had their first hiccup. Dean couldn't get into his phone. Someone, most likely Roman, had set a password up for it and the memory challenged man obviously couldn't remember it. That password prompt hadn't been on the phone two months ago. Which meant that he had no idea what the Samoan might have used as the code.

It was a big problem because if they were still brothers then he would know it. His eyes landed on the phone that was sitting on the nightstand and he felt relief sweep through him. Of course a private room would have it's own line. "Just use the landline."

"Like I know his number by heart?" Blue eyes rolled at the ridiculousness of that notion. He held out his hand, fingers wiggling commandingly. "Let me use yours."

Well that wouldn't work. His number would should up on Roman's display. No way to explain why Dean had access to it without the truth being exposed. Which meant that he was forced to stretch the truth a little. "My phone's dead and I can't charge it because your stupid android wire doesn't fit my Iphone."

It wasn't a complete lie. While his phone wasn't dead, it was off. Partly because his battery was low and Dean's wire really didn't fit his phone. Also because he wasn't in the mood to hear from anyone who might call him. He didn't know if he could stand another gloating phone call from Hunter and not completely explode.

"Excuse me for refusing to be another mindless Apple sheep." Came the predictable grumble from the injured man.

That brought a smirk to the architect's face. "Someday, you will give up and realize that resistance is futile."

"But that day ain't no time soon brother." The dirty blonde huffed in disgust at the idea of giving up his long standing vendetta against all things Apple. "Guess calling Rome will have to wait for now."

"Guess so." He relaxed in his uncomfortable chair. "How's your head? Still got the headache?"

"Yeah but it's not as bad. More of a dull, lingering ache than the fucking parade of pain it was since I woke up." Dean's eyebrows furrowed. "Think they might have slipped some pain meds in my IV the last time the nurse was in here."

Seth knew why that idea bothered him. The dirty blonde's past issues with drugs were well documented and never something he hid. He found himself leaning forward and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I don't think they would do that unless you really needed it."

"Oh please, they'd do it in a heartbeat. Another scam they use to fatten their wallets."

"One of these days, I really have to hear the origin of all your hospital conspiracy theories. I mean, I've heard bits and pieces but never the whole story at one time." He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "It's got to be damn good if it's convinced you that everything they do to help the sick and wounded is just a money scam."

"Oh come on! The fact that I'm in a private room isn't enough proof of that for you?" The dirty blonde arched an eyebrow. "These things run big bucks. Probably close to what premium rooms in five star hotels run a night."

He opened his mouth to assure his former brother that he didn't have to worry about that since Vince was footing the bill for his current digs but quickly realized the problems that admission would present. Instead he forced a laugh, "Hearing your bank account getting lighter?"

"By the time I pay for all these tests, this room and whatever the hell else they tack on to the bill, the damn thing will be empty again."

That caused guilt to stab through him. Damn it. He'd never even considered the financial impact that curb stomping Dean's head through cinderblocks would have. But the older man was right. Medical treatment was expensive to begin with but the longer you stayed and the more they did, the more it cost.

Yes, WWE paid really well in comparison to other wrestling organizations. But when you had to pay for all your gear, plane tickets, rental cars, hotel rooms and food while you were on the road, it was a significant dent in your salary. It got worse when you added in the normal life expenses like a mortgage or rent and monthly bills. The biggest drain on their salary though was the fact that they paid for their own medical insurance and because of what they did, the monthly premium was ridiculously expensive. So weren't the co-pays for even the littlest thing you had to see a doctor for.

Compared to a lot of guys on the Roster, Dean was thrifty to put it tactfully.

He'd tell you flat out that he was cheap. Just because his WWE contract was a damn good upgrade from what they were making on their developmental deals, his lifestyle had barely changed. He didn't run out and buy a new car. Didn't purchase a fancy house or a bunch of expensive toys to impress anyone. Couldn't care less about having the latest model phone or designer clothes and shoes.

His car was the third-hand 2002 Chevy F150 he'd bought in 2011 when his previous dinosaur of a car had finally died and couldn't be revived. The apartment he lived in was in an older but clean complex that didn't offer much in the way of perks but came furnished and was on the cheaper side rent wise because of that fact. That phone they couldn't get into was Galaxy S2 and instead of an IPAD, he had an ancient, bulky laptop that he'd owned since 2009. He wore his clothes until they were falling apart and only stopped when he was pushed to go buy new stuff or they came apart in the wash. Instead of upscale shopping malls, Dean loved to frequent flea markets and thrift stores because he felt more comfortable there.

But even with those conservative choices, this situation could definitely bankrupt him.

Seth needed to get away for a minute. There was a call he really needed to make but didn't want to do it anywhere someone could overhear. He stood and stretched, plastering a smile that hurt like hell on his face. "I'm going to run to the cafeteria. You want anything?"

"Could you grab me a coke?" His tongue poked at his cheek. "Oh and I wouldn't say no to a sandwich either."

"They'll be serving you dinner in about an hour."

"So? I'll eat that too."

Some things never changed and he was thankful for that. "No problem."

He headed out of the room and out the side door. The hot, dry desert air greeted him and he took a deep breath. Pulling out his phone, he powered it up and called headquarters. When the receptionist answered, he asked to be directed to Hunter. After a couple of rings, he received his personal assistant who put his call through without hesitation.

"Mr. Rollins," Hunter had his business voice on which meant that someone influential was around and that meant he was most likely on speaker phone so that person could hear the conversation. "What can I do for you?"

"Sorry to bother you but I was just wondering if my suspension was with pay or without it? That aspect wasn't made clear during the conversation and I'd like to plan accordingly." Actually, he wanted to know so he could help Dean pay the unwanted expenses that this hospital stay racked up since he was at fault.

The voice that answered him was not the voice of the COO but the CEO of the company, Vince McMahon himself. "Due to the severity of your actions Mr. Rollins, your suspension is without pay. Don't worry though. The board just had a meeting and decided that the best course of action we can take to mitigate a lawsuit being filed against the company is to use that money to pay for all the medical treatment that Mr. Ambrose requires."

He felt the weight lift off his shoulders at that news. "You're paying for Dean's medical bills?"

"Technically Seth, you and your co-conspirator Kane are." Vince sounded vindictive and proud of himself at the same time. "Now that we've settled that, I must remind you that you are suspended and should not be contacting any WWE personnel until you are reinstated."

"Sorry again sir." With that, he disconnected the call and turned his phone off again.

It was such a relief to know that his stupidity wouldn't cost Dean every penny he had. He stood there for a few more minutes then made his way down to the cafeteria, getting a sandwich for both of them, a diet coke for him and a regular coke for the dirty blonde. Making his way back to the room, the smile on his face was genuine. But it wobbled when he pushed open the door to Dean's room and heard his voice, speaking in a low but agitated tone.

"Yeah, I've already heard all that Rome. Dr. Monotone informed me about it while I forced to be his unwilling guinea pig." There was barely suppressed annoyance in the older man's voice. "But I bet I could find a doctor who'd clear me before then and without all that hassle."

He rolled his eyes. This was exactly what he feared. The reason he had made the decision to stay with the dirty blonde until he'd completed the concussion protocol requirements. His earlier opportunity to discuss this with Ambrose hadn't come to fruition because the doctors had whisked him off to take his tests before he could. But he said nothing as he entered the room, taking the seat he had vacated earlier and setting the sandwich and soda down on the small table that was attached to the rail of the bed and swung it in place over the dirty blonde's lap.

Dean made the well known talking motion with his hand, rolling his eyes. He was obviously receiving an earful over his belief that he could ignore doctor's orders and not enjoying it. Typical. "I don't see why if I pass these tests they gave me today that I have to waste time bothering with all that other shit."

Of course he didn't. No, why would he understand that he needed to take care of himself and not take risks with his health? Dean never worried about that. Wrestling with cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder and several other injuries numerous times since he started in FCW. Then there were the injuries and issues that the man had wrestled through when he was on the independent scene that never healed correctly. Hell, this was the same man who sowed his own nipple back on with a regular spool of thread and needle because he couldn't afford to go to the hospital.

"Well it's not like I was all that right in the head to start with." That quip obviously didn't get the response he wanted because he groaned. "Rome, my food's here and I'm fucking starving. Whatever they put in this bag can't compare to this semi-edible looking stuff on the plate in front of me. You can call me again tomorrow since it'll let me answer and I'll fill you in what the tests said."

After another minute or two, Dean threw his disconnected phone down on the bed next to him and let out a long, tired sigh. "When the hell did he become such a mother hen? I mean, that was always your role. Him and I, we were more the type to tell each other to suck it up."

Seth chuckled, he wouldn't have to lie to answer this. "With everything you've been through, it's not surprising that he's overly concerned."

"Doesn't make it less annoying." Ambrose unwrapped the sandwich that he received and took a big bite.

"But, it also doesn't make it any less true."

Apparently, the cafeteria wasn't horrible because the sandwich disappeared in the blink of an eye. Either that or being out of it for two days meant that the dirty blonde would eat anything placed in front of him. "Yeah, yeah."

After Seth finished his sandwich, which was horrible at a much more civilized pace, he decided that it was better that they get this conversation under way. "The doctor's told me that they want someone with you when you get released from here until you complete the terms of the concussion protocol guidelines."

"Why?"

"Because there's a chance with head injuries that side effects may take time before showing up. So it's better if you have someone with you while you recuperate." The words were flat, not to be argued with but of course the older man was going to try. So he cut him off before he could get started. "Plus, you need someone to make sure that you're following doctor's orders and don't decide to visit some hack that you can convince to clear you before you're ready."

"I don't need a babysitter." That declaration was practically a snarl. "Been taking care of myself for a long time."

"This time, you do." He made sure to meet the blue eyes. "So I'm going to stay with you until you've got a clean bill of health. It's not up for discussion."

"Oh yeah?" A smirk curved his former brother's lips. "What about work? Think the authority are just gonna allow you to take a month off?"

"It's not a problem."

"Sure."

Seth took a deep, steadying breath and made sure to keep his voice calm, not to let any unwanted emotion to leak through. "Getting the time off to help you won't be a problem because I did something horrible and got suspended. So for the next twenty nine days, I'm free to be the annoying pest who makes sure that you do everything by the book."

Dean seemed to have a hard time understanding what he just heard. Blue eyes blinked rapidly as he struggled with what was said. "You got suspended?"

"Yeah but trust me, with what I did, I deserve that and more."

"What the fuck?" The older man looked shocked to his core. "This doesn't make sense. You don't do anything that would get you suspended. Never have, never would. You're too damn honorable and moral…"

"We all get pushed too far sometimes and do things that we know that we shouldn't. That's what happened. I regret the choices I made, god do I ever. If I could do things over, I wouldn't make the same ones again. But in all honesty, I deserved to be suspended a lot longer than the thirty days I got." He was extremely proud that he had been able to truthfully discuss it and not have to twist anything to fit his needs. "In fact, if they had decided to fire me it probably would have been more appropriate."

"Holy shit! I end up in the hospital and the whole world goes fucking crazy. What's next? Donald Trump going to run for president."

"I know you hate the idea of having a babysitter but think of it like this..." He leaned forward, holding eye contact. "I don't know what the hell to do with myself if I can't wrestle. So letting me stay with you and work with you on your recovery is exactly what I need to keep myself from losing my mind."

"So I'd be doing you a another favor huh?"

"A big one." Bigger than the eccentric man even knew.

Dean rolled his eyes, "I'm not gonna lie and say that I don't think this whole thing is a bunch of bullshit. Cause it is. I'm a grown ass man who's been taking care of himself since before I was even close to being considered an adult. But if it keeps you from going stir crazy and deciding to dress you and your dog up in matching outfits again-"

"Hey! It was for my brother's wedding and it wasn't my idea, it was the bride's." He protested quickly. "She thought that Kevin would look adorable in a Tux like the rest of the groomsmen."

"Excuses, excuses." A lazy hand waved in dismissal of his protest. "If it keeps something like that from happening then fine. But be prepared. I won't to be all agreeable to whatever these quacks say that I have to do."

"Trust me, I know."

"I'm guessing that I shouldn't mention this to Roman either since the two of you are at war for some reason and you didn't even want him knowing that you visited me." Shrewd blue eyes accessed him and he felt the urge to shrink away. "Does your fight have anything to do with what got you suspended?

"Partially but it started before that."

"You gonna tell me about it sometime or just going to keep giving me vague answers whenever I ask a question?"

Seth closed his eyes. Damn Dean and his ability to read people. It made it really hard to get away with anything even if it was something being done in his best interest. "There are reasons that I'm being ambiguous. Some of those reasons the doctor will explain tomorrow, after your test results are in and some of them are because I'm just not ready to talk about things right now."

"That's cool." Dean nodded slightly. "I can accept that and give you time but whatever your issues are, we're gonna talk about them at some point."

"I know." He agreed quietly. "Trust me, I know."


	4. Diagnosis

**_Open your eyes, look within. Are you satisfied with the life you're living?-Bob Marley_**

* * *

 _August 21, 2014 1:30pm_

Seth sat in the chair in the hospital, leg bouncing up and down as he waited for Dr. Johnson to get there. All of the results from the tests they ran yesterday were finally in and the nurse had called the room to inform them that the doctor would be arriving shortly to give them the news. That statement was what had him on edge. If all of the results had come back normal then the man would be coming with release papers. But no, he was coming to discuss the results which meant that something had to be wrong.

Of course it had been too easy so far.

Did he actually think that something wasn't going to go wrong? That his stupid decision to curb stomp a human being's head into cinderblocks wouldn't cause damage? Just because Dean wasn't showing outward signs of being injured that it meant that everything was alright? That there couldn't be internal damage done? How could he convince himself that things would work out the way he wanted?

He should know better than to ever allow himself to act without thoroughly thinking things through first. He worked a lot better not making snap judgments just because it looked like it would lead to something he wanted. It always came back to bite him in ass big time. Had always proved him wrong when he didn't want to be. Haunt him for a long time after…

"Would you cut that shit out?" Dean snapped at him. "Fucking annoying me with all that bouncing and thinking. I just wanna rip your fucking leg off and beat you with it so it'll stop."

"Wait…what?" His eyes widened in disbelief. "You're telling me to stop fidgeting?"

"Yeah, it's driving me nuts."

He couldn't hold back his laughter. That was absolutely hilarious to him. The twitchiest person he ever met, a man that could not be still to save his life, was telling him to stop moving. What the hell was going on? Had he been transported to an alternate universe?

Ambrose sneered at him, his hand curled in and out of a tight fist, knuckles turning white from the pressure. "You know, your laugh is getting on my nerves too."

Ah, now he realized what was going on. It was classic Dean. He was worried about what was going to happen, what the doctor was going to say. The only problem was that he didn't deal with it like most people. No, the dirty blonde's first reaction to most situations that made him uncomfortable was to lash out, be it verbally or physically, because it took his mind off what he was feeling for those few moments.

Knowing why the other man was suddenly in a bad mood, he made an effort to control his own suffocating anxiety for now and focus on being there for the dirty blonde. He held up his hands in surrender, offering him a contrite grin. "Sorry man, just a little wound up about this whole thing."

"Should've listened when I told you to get the hell outta here for a while. Go to the gym, for a run or some shit." Now the older man was the one fidgeting, fingers drumming against his collarbone and shifting constantly where he sat. "But no, you wanted to stay and now you're being all fucking squirrelly, driving me up the damn wall."

"Says the deranged chipmunk." He teased lightly, bringing an old nickname out to play in hopes it would get a laugh.

A fist slammed into his shoulder, hard and without warning, and he winced loudly at the unexpected contact. Jesus, Dean really knew how to hit someone just right so it would do the most damage. Pain radiated up and down his am in waves. People sometimes mocked the way the dirty blonde tended to flail away in the ring but he knew that there was a intentional reason his former brother did that. If Ambrose allowed himself to really hit his opponent, especially one who pushed him a little too far, there was a damn good chance he might not stop.

He rubbed the spot and hissed as instead of making it feel better, it actually made it hurt even more. That was definitely going to leave a mark. His mouth opened to reprimand the eccentric man but he thought better of that decision once he looked the man on the bed. Instinctively, he averted his gaze and shrank down in his seat with a shiver. If looks could kill then he'd be dead from the murderous one that Dean had trained on him at that moment.

"The fuck I tell you about calling me that?" His fist connected with the architect's shoulder again. "I ain't no fucking chipmunk."

Seth winced again, pulling his arm tight against his body. If he wasn't in so much pain, he'd find it amusing that the part of that quip Ambrose took offense to was being compared to an adorable rodent and not the whole deranged part that preceded it. But that was just how Dean was. It always got worse when he was in a mood like the one he was currently in. Dealing with an upset, worried Dean was a lot like walking through a minefield, you had to be extremely cautious and tread lightly or you'd get blown up.

The door opened and Dr. Johnson came in.

Dean sat up straighter, his usual lazy, slouched posture suddenly rife with tension. Blue eyes were narrowed on the man, an odd mix of trepidation and anger shining in those unfathomable depths. "So what's the verdict doc? Am I getting the hell outta here today or what?"

"Mr. Ambrose, I'm happy and pleasantly surprised to inform you that most of the tests we ran have come back much better than we could have anticipated." The doctor was consulting the pages in front of him. "Given what we were expecting, this really could be considered miraculous."

Seth let out a breath he didn't realize that he was holding, relief flooding his body. He reached over and clapped his former brother on the shoulder, "That's great news, isn't it Dean-o."

The dirty blonde shot him another glare at the use of the nickname but nodded, "So clean bill of health doc?"

"No."

Two sets of eyes swung to the Doctor and they spoke in stereo.

"What?"

"But you just said…"

"While most of the tests came back in the normal range, the motion and response testing guidelines have indicated that you did suffer a concussion as we initially suspected. On the scale of grading and due to the symptoms you're exhibiting, it falls right between a grade two and grade three which puts it in the serious range. The headaches, confusion and memory loss-"

"Huh?" Dean interjected, staring at the man as if he was crazy. "What the hell are you talking about? I'm not experiencing any memory loss."

"You indicated in our conversation yesterday that it's February, correct?" After a nod confirmed it for him, the doctor continued. "Has that opinion changed since that time or do you still believe that?"

Annoyed blue eyes rolled, "My opinion hasn't changed because it is February."

The doctor nodded to himself and handed his patient the daily newspaper. "Please read the date for me."

"August?" The dirty blonde's complexion had paled, eyes widened impossibly, hands shaking as they held the paper. "What the hell? No, it's…it just can't be August."

"I assure you that it is."

Those eyes were the stormiest blue as they settled on the architect. "Why the hell didn't you tell me that it wasn't February? You just sat there and let me go on and on about shit and kept your damn mouth shut."

Seth swallowed thickly and opened his mouth, but no words would come out.

Thankfully, Dr. Johnson saved him. "I advised anyone who had contact with you not to disclose any information to you until the results of the tests were in. As I've told them, it's not uncommon to experience Post Traumatic Amnesia given the fact that your head sustained a horrific impact. Now that the tests have confirmed a concussion diagnosis and showed no sign of brain damage, we are confident that the memory loss is a direct side effect from that."

Dean's voice betrayed the myriad of emotions he was going through at that moment. "So, I'll get my memory back?"

"You will."

"Now that you've confirmed the reason for it, do you have any idea when it'll come back?" Seth inquired, his nerves flaring at the thought. "I know you said before that it couldn't be predicted…."

"And that still holds true." The doctor stated flatly. "No two head injuries or concussions are alike. Cases like this, memory loss has ranged anywhere from mere minutes to several weeks."

Dean's tongue poked at his cheek, a sure sign that the older man definitely had something on his mind. "Say if I wanted to try to trigger it-"

"I would strongly advise against that." Dr. Johnson cut him off before he could even finish that thought. "The best thing you can do for your long term recovery is to allow it to progress organically. Forcing any aspect of recovery can have adverse effects."

Seth's leg started bouncing of it's own accord again. "What kind of adverse effects?"

"Again, it varies from patient to patient. Most common cases see a higher level of stress and anxiety than usual which is counterproductive to healing. The more extreme examples have resulted in patients experiencing severe depression, bouts of sustained rage and even suicidal thoughts and actions."

Shaking hands raked through dark hair as he struggled to process that. Dean had already been through so much in his twenty-eight years of life that it was amazing he wasn't more messed up than he was. Yet he fought through everything life threw in his path, managed to build a life a decent life for himself and despite everything, he was relatively well adjusted. But how much more could he take before he broke? He'd been teetering close to the edge for the last two months, his emotions all over the place, this injury could very well snap the last tether to sanity he had.

He chanced a glance at the dirty blonde and found him gnawing on his lower lip, a sure sign that he understood exactly how precarious this could be. But he was stubborn to a fault. Hated to be told what to do. Detested anyone who was in a position of authority or who thought that they knew what was best for him. Would do anything he could just to spite them or prove them wrong.

Hopefully, his former brother would see that the doctor was right and not try to force the issue. That for once, he'd just accept what he was being told and focus all that boundless energy on following directions. That he'd put his health above everything else. Of course, he'd probably bitch and complain. But as long as he wasn't doing anything he wasn't supposed to then that would be fine.

"Does all this mean that I'm not getting released today?" Dean piped up, his voice quieter than usual.

"No, there is no point in keeping you here. Medically, there's nothing more that can be done. Only you can get yourself healthy again by following the protocol." Dr. Johnson informed him flatly. "I do strongly recommend having someone with you during this crucial time in your recovery because with a concussion of this magnitude serious side effects could set in."

"I'm going to stay with him, help him through this." Seth chimed in, noticing the dark look on the dirty blonde's face. "Is there anything he should avoid?"

"This is a printout of post concussion restrictions. As you can see, it's a quite long." The doctor handed the list to the architect and smiled. "However, I do want to verbalize the main points so there can be no confusion over them."

Brown eyes widened as he quickly perused the four pages of post concussion recovery mandates. Damn it, this was going to be a hell of a lot harder than he initially thought it would be. Basically, Dean couldn't do anything at all. To accomplish what this protocol entailed, he was going to have to handcuff the dirty blonde to his headboard for the duration of his recovery because he hated being idle and nothing was more dangerous than a bored Ambrose.

"Great." The huff from the dirty blonde was sarcastic as his narrowed gaze flicked over the man who he now viewed as the enemy. "Can we get on with it?"

"During your recovery there should be very limited physical and cognitive activity until you've been cleared by a doctor. Stimulation, mental or physical is not conducive to your health. Time away from all aspects of work is crucial, you will not receive medical clearance until you show no lingering symptoms. This also means that you are not permitted to watch your peers on television while you're recovering. Alcohol consumption is strictly forbidden. No driving a car or motorcycle, riding a bike or operating heavy machinery until you are medically cleared."

Dean rolled his eyes, his patience obviously dwindling. "Is there anything I can actually do?"

"Rest and relaxation is the most important step in ensuring your recovery goes as smoothly as possible. So as your doctor, I'm prescribing sleep and a lot of it."

Most people would love to hear that but as Seth knew, sleep was not something that came easily for the older man. He was a chronic insomniac who basically took twenty minute periodic naps throughout the day. Sometimes he got lucky and could get a few hours of sleep between the hours of four am and ten am. Those times were few and far between though unfortunately. But given what these guidelines were saying, those twenty minute cat naps might actually be the best thing for him.

"Right, sleep." Blue eyes rolled. "That sounds easy enough."

"If you'll excuse me, I've got a couple of patients to check on. When I finish, I'll see if your release papers are ready."

Seth waited until Dr. Johnson left the room and let out a breath that he'd been holding. "I got to say, considering everything, this is good news."

"Is it?" One eyebrow rose in challenge, anger turning each word to a hiss. "Is it really?"

"Yeah, it is." He stated firmly, holding that burning glare. "Because you could have been brain damaged, paralyzed, stuck in a vegetative state or dead instead. So yeah, you have a concussion and that sucks. But the fact that you're alive, awake, can walk and talk is good news to me and it should be good news to you too."

Dean looked sheepish, eyes studying the ground intently. "Seth…"

All the emotions he tried so hard to keep at bay were crashing over him. Completely overwhelming his brain and body. He buried his head in his hands, his palms digging into his stinging eyes to try stop himself from breaking down. "No, don't Seth me because I'm right and you know it! As usual you're just too damn stubborn…"

"You're right." The admission was quiet and defeated. "It could've been worse."

That surprised him. It usually took a lot more effort and time to get the eccentric man to admit something like that. "I get that you hate having to follow doctor's orders and be patient, to not just rush right back into the ring. Too bad. You need to suck it up and do what you're told this time. Not just for yourself but for Roman and me too. We need you to be healthy."

Dean's cell phone picked that moment to chime and Seth wondered if Roman had some sort of a sixth sense for the times when things got rough. The dirty blonde sighed heavily and held up a hand, indicting for the talking to stop. His finger swiped to accept the call and he brought the phone to his ear. "Hey Rome, what's up?"

Seth took that opportunity to go into the bathroom but not only to give the dirty blonde privacy while he talked to Samoan man. Truth was, he needed a few minutes alone. He splashed cold water on his face and tried to compose himself. To get those spiraling emotions firmly back under lock and key. Not just for his own sake but for Dean's too.

His eyes went to mirror and stared hard at his reflection. But he couldn't look at himself anymore, that same sense of crushing guilt bearing down on him. Turning off the water, he closed the lid on the toilet and sat down. Hands cradled his head as he tried to work through it. There was no more that he hated than feeling like this, so weak and unsure.

He needed to be strong, level headed and unwavering so he could do his best to make sure the dirty blonde adhered to doctor's orders. Dean recovering completely was his number one priority. Anything less than the older man being back to one hundred percent would be a failure. And that was just not an option. So he had to take all the guilt, pain and remorse that he felt and use it as motivation to get the results he wanted.

At least until Dean's memory returned.

That was when things would get ugly.

But he didn't want to think about that yet. So until the day came, he was going to do everything he could to make up for his stupid, dangerous decisions. Approach this like he did with every other challenge he took on in his life, full force and with unbreakable confidence. Prove to his former brother that he really was sorry for what he'd done, that he truly regretted letting something as trivial as the spotlight become so important to him that he'd be alright with betraying them. Put his whole heart into the task at hand, ignoring the fact that he would most likely end up the one who was shattered when the dirty blonde remembered.

Looking back on the choices he made, it disgusted him that he stooped to the levels that he did. Yes, getting to the top was important to him. His goal was never to be just one of the guys. He wanted to be the man. But he never needed to go the route that he did to get there. If he wanted to go it alone, all he would have had to do is sit down and explain things to Dean and Roman, who would have agreed to dissolve the Shield because they also wanted to be more than just part of the roster.

Handled that way, the friendship and brotherhood would have remained intact. They still might have clashed in the ring but it would've been different. Done with respect and the desire to give the fans the best match possible. Not with jealously, hatred, the intent to destroy each other or cause serious physical injury. And there'd have been no outside interference constantly to cheapen the victory.

There was a quick knock on the door, "Seth, you alive in there bro?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" His voice betrayed his confusion.

"Cause you've been in there for like half an hour." The amusement in Dean's voice was plain to hear. "I think the doc thought I offed ya when he came by to have me sign my release papers."

He blinked, getting to his feet and pulling the door opened, eyes scanning the room but coming up empty. The doctor sure as hell wasn't in that room. His attention focused back on the man, who was dressed in his usual t-shirt and jeans, in front of him and he really hoped that he wasn't witnessing a side effect of the concussion. The paper did warn that hallucinations could occur in patients. "Uh, I don't see him. You sure he's here?"

A smirk curved the lips of the older man, his body doing it's usual excited wiggle. "He's been here and gone already dip shit. Speaking of being gone, can we get the hell outta here now? Cause I'm a free man who's sick of this place."


	5. Difficult

**_The art of living is more like wrestling than dancing.-Marcus Aurelius_**

* * *

 _August 22, 2014 9:30am_

Seth had been laying on the sofa in Dean's living room for the last two hours, eyes on the hideous popcorn ceiling, trying to figure out what the hell to do. Turns out that he wasn't good at being idle either. Normally at this time of the day, he'd be in the middle of a crazy cross fit session or on a run to cool down. Leaving Dean unsupervised just wasn't a good idea. He had no doubt that he'd come back to find the dirty blonde doing something he wasn't supposed to do or even worse, that he'd come back to an empty apartment.

Because he just knew that Dean was crazy enough to ignore doctors orders and try to drive up to the mountains or go for a run of his own. Wouldn't be the first time he did something like that. He'd witnessed firsthand the fact that injuries were just something Dean ignored. Didn't matter how bad the injury was. The dirty blonde would just stubbornly stick to his usual routine and not worry about it.

So he had no doubt that history would repeat itself if he dared to let the other man out of his sight for more than a minute.

He'd check his twitter but he already knew what would be awaiting him due to what happened on Monday's show. Reading death threats was no way to start your day, he knew that from recent experience. It was funny how he wasn't numb to them at this point in time. By now, after about a couple thousand of them, they should just roll off his back. But they didn't and he wondered if they ever would, if he'd ever get used to people wanting him gone.

Watching TV was apparently also out of the question since the remote control was nowhere to be seen and like most flat screen's, there was no power button on the console. His stomach rumbled again, it had been doing that for a while, and he sighed. As much as he'd love to cook breakfast, there was no food in Dean's house. That wasn't him being sarcastic or finicky. He really wished it was but he made the unpleasant discovery when he attempted to cook dinner for them last night.

This must be what it's like living in a frat house. The cabinets were empty except for several bottles of whiskey and a half eaten bag of stale popcorn. His freezer only had ice and something unidentifiable that was ominously covered in a very thick layer of impenetrable ice crystals. Whatever it had been, there was no doubt that it was no longer remotely close to being considered edible. Other than beer and an old bottle of Coke, the fridge had been barren until they put the leftover Chinese food they'd been forced to order in there.

Which meant that at some point today, there was no choice but for them to go to the grocery store. He refused to allow them to live off takeout for however long he was at Dean's. No matter what the eccentric man argued, you could not live off pizza, Chinese food and French fries alone. Well he guessed they could if they didn't have to worry about or they just didn't care about their physical fitness and well-being. But since they were WWE superstars, they had to try to live a healthier lifestyle than that.

Grocery shopping with Dean was not going to be fun. He had suffered through the task numerous times back when they all shared hotel rooms and used to buy food to save money on the road. The only scenario he could equate it to, even though he had no first hand knowledge of it himself, was that it was probably a lot like what it'd be like to shop with a child. There was a lot of telling the dirty blonde no and taking things out of the carriage that he threw in when you weren't looking. In return, Dean would toss anything remotely healthy back onto a shelf and argue that life was boring if you worried too much about doing everything right.

Because of that, the simple errand took a hell of a lot longer than it needed to.

His thoughts cut off at the sound of the bedroom door creaking open and he sat up, eyes wide as he watched the dirty blonde exit, looking really rough. That discolored area of his forehead was starting to change colors, the purple lightening somewhat to a sickening blue but it had also started yellowing at the edge. He looked away from it quickly and swallowed thickly, "Everything alright?"

"Untwist your panties, I've just gotta use the bathroom." Dean rolled his eyes as he crossed the room. "Ain't even been a full day and you're already driving me up the fucking wall. Keep it up and I'll kill you before the week's out."

Oh yeah. He had somehow foolishly forgotten that the other man was not a morning person. It usually took Ambrose about an hour and two cups of coffee before he warmed up enough to humanity that he stopped threatening death upon anyone who spoke to him. Guess with everything that happened over the last few months, he repressed most things about his former brothers. It made it easier to pretend that he never cared about them in the first place, that he was fine with leaving them behind, that he didn't miss them.

He rubbed his face roughly as the bathroom door closed loudly, like an exclamation point to his annoyance. There was no sense in just sitting there anymore. Might as well get up and reheat their leftovers from last night. Once in the kitchen, he searched for a pan but frowned when he only came across one. A small frying pan that looked like it had seen better days and couldn't hold much at all.

Not a baking pan or larger frying pan to be found.

It completely baffled him. How the hell was it possible to cook everything in a basic small frying pan? A cheap, non-stick type that looked like the damaged coating was a cheap Teflon imitation. One that couldn't even go into the oven because it wasn't cast iron. That had a flimsy plastic handle screwed onto it and would melt from the heat of the oven.

The bathroom door opened and he decided to get to the bottom of the mystery. He waited until the older man was closer then questioned him. "I was going to reheat our food but all I can find is this one pan."

"Use the microwave." Dean was looking at him like he was an absolute idiot. "Fucking quicker and easier."

"Chinese food in the microwave is disgusting. It somehow manages to get soggy but also rubbery and hard at the same time." He scoffed. "I usually heat it up in pans so it's edible but for some reason, this is the only one I could find."

"Cause that one's all you really need." It was an annoyed grumble. "I like to keep it simple when I bother to cook so I don't need a lot of stuff. Eggs, grilled cheese and my own brilliant creation, a happy bowl sandwich all fit into that."

"Your oven works though, right?"

Blue eyes blinked, "The top part does, no clue about the bottom."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling for all the world like a parent dealing with a teenager who had just moved into their first apartment and really had no idea what the hell they were doing. "You've never used your oven? What do you do if you don't want a sandwich or eggs?"

"Order out, hit up the buffet at a casino, eat at this little neighborhood joint I found or microwave a frozen pizza."

"You live off sandwiches, disgusting frozen food, greasy take out or horrible buffet food? That's…I mean…it's just-" His eyes closed as he fought the urge to lecture the concussed man on his dietary choices. "You have an indoor grill, sitting right there on the counter, please tell me you use that at least? I mean, you like burgers so you must, right?"

"Nah, I only have that cause Roman got me it as a housewarming gift. Don't know why he didn't just get me some booze instead cause I have a hell of a lot more use for that than any of that fancy cooking shit. I couldn't even tell you how to turn that damn thing on."

Brown eyes stared in horrified fascination, "You can't be serious."

The dirty blonde was actually almost pouting. "Don't look at me like that. I don't like cooking. It's boring and takes too long. Plus after the fourth fire, I kind of gave up on the whole thing."

The architect stared in open-mouthed disbelief at his former brother. He had to have heard that wrong. Hopefully. Because if not then he really had a problem with the dirty blonde living on his own this far from anyone. "Four fires?"

"Two grease and two that probably still puzzle the fire department to this day." Dean didn't look the least bit ashamed or affected by that. He almost looked proud. "Figured it'd be best if I just stuck to the basics from then on."

"This was recent?" Panic was literally spiking in his body.

"Nope, years ago." His tongue poked at his lower lip as he considered. "I was still living in Cincinnati then."

Seth tried to process that. He knew from numerous conversations that Dean had left his hometown a long time ago, moving to Philly to work for CZW in 2009. That was five years ago to be exact. "You've gone all these years, eating crappy food and haven't bothered to learn how to cook? Why?"

"Told you, I don't like it." He shrugged unapologetically. "Plus, I usually lived with people and they knew how to cook. Working at bars when I wasn't wrestling got me free meals during my shifts. When I wrestled, I used to rack up on the pretzels they had leftover after the show. So I never really had to worry about it."

"That's not acceptable." The architect tugged at his hair. "You can't live like this. It's not good for your health."

"Calm your ass down mother hen." A dark, aggravated look flashed across his face. "I'm a big boy and I've been getting along just fine."

No, he really hadn't but he knew better than to say that aloud. No need to start a war this early in the morning. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to reign in his patience with the injured man. "You can't go on living off sandwiches. I'd be a shitty brother if I allowed that to continue. I need to teach you how to cook like an actual adult."

"Pretty sure that's on the mile long list of what not to do that the doctor gave you." Dean looked really smug about that. "Might as well pull the stick outta your ass about it and we'll both be better off. Not to mention, something tells me that this place would go up like a tinderbox in the event of a fire. It's probably loaded with asbestos."

Seth gaped at him, aggravation slowly working it's way through his body. His hand gripped the handle of the frying pan tightly, deciding that it was better to leave this battle alone for now. It could get revisited once the man started feeling better. "I'm going to reheat the leftovers."

"But I don't want Chinese food for breakfast." Dean's tone was a borderline whine. "I want waffles or pancakes. You know, real breakfast food. Not stuff I usually eat when I'm hung-over."

"Well that's not happening because you're apparently allergic to the grocery store." He shook his head in exasperation. "I just don't get it man. How do you have no food at all here?"

"Cause I'm hardly ever here." An eye roll followed that. "Doesn't make sense to stock the place. I usually just grab whatever I'll need for the few hours a week that I'm home."

Well at least there was some truth and skewed logic to that. Their profession really didn't give them a lot of opportunity to spend time in their own homes. So buying a lot of food didn't make sense. Yet there were plenty of things you could purchase that wouldn't go bad quickly, that could survive longer than a week. "You know what I found funny? That you have more than enough beer and whiskey readily available even though as you said, you're not here a lot."

"They have a longer shelf life."

"We're going to the store later and we're going to get food. Real food. Not any of that revolting microwave crap."

Dean huffed, "It's always crowded and people annoy me cause they stand in the middle of the damn aisle with their carriages, talking to their neighbors about stupid ass shit and blocking the damn way!"

"Too bad." Seth kept his tone firm. "We need food."

"Why do I have to go? I can stay here…"

"Leaving you alone is dangerous enough when you're at a hundred percent. Don't want to find out what would happen when you're concussed."

"Oh come on." There was a definite edge of exasperation in his tone. "It's not like I've never had my brain scrambled before. What's the worst that could happen?"

A shudder ran down his spine as several probable scenarios danced through his brain, bringing with them vividly disturbing images. "I don't want to find out what would happen."

"And I don't want to deal with being mobbed by fans right now." Ambrose admitted quietly, sounding tired as he rubbed his temples. "Normally, I don't mind signing shit and taking a picture, talking with them for a few but I just don't feel up to it today."

That statement made him freeze. Oh shit. For a few minutes, he had managed to forget their current reality. Completely and totally pushed it out of his mind that they weren't really friends or brothers anymore and that they shouldn't be seen together at this point in time. All it would take would be a fan saying something to them about what happened or posting their picture on Twitter or Instagram and everything would go straight to hell.

It was better if he figured out a different way to get them food.

Not to mention that Ambrose really wasn't up to it right now. That he did need to avoid situations like that until he was symptom free. "Right, yeah, that'd be too much stimulation and the doctor said you should avoid that."

Dean smirked, somehow managing to look smug once again even though his fingers were still dancing in circles on his temples. "Guess that means that this little excursion gotta wait."

"Not really." His mind had already come up with an alternative plan. "A lot of grocery stores have online shopping and home delivery service. I'll go online and see if any of the ones near here have that option. Where's your laptop?"

"I don't know." A lazy shrug followed that. "Got to be around here somewhere."

It really wasn't surprising that he didn't know where it was, probably had nothing to do with the concussion either. The dirty blonde had been prone to losing or forgetting stuff since the day they met when he showed up in FCW and couldn't remember where he'd left his bag. He'd lost count of how many phone chargers and hotel keycards that Ambrose had lost over the course of the last two years. Hell there was even several times where the older man had somehow forgotten where he'd parked their rental car. So a missing laptop was just par for the course when it came to dealing with him.

"Seth?"

"Huh?"

"I still want waffles or pancakes." Dean rolled his eyes at the incredulous look he was getting in response to that. "I know you can't make them cause we don't got the stuff. We could go to this diner I hit up to sometimes. It's kind of a dump but the food's good and no one bothers me there."

It sounded tempting. Really tempting. He didn't feel like leftover Chinese food for breakfast either. But it was way too risky. Thankfully, he had the list to fall back on and mentally thanked the medical community for his excuse. "Sorry man, I don't think the doctors would approve. You're supposed to be on a strict regimen of relaxation and sleep."

"I'm fine other than this damn headache from hell."

"Which is a side effect from the serious concussion you have." Needles of guilt stabbed into him and he jammed his hands into the pockets of the basketball shorts he wore. "In fact, you shouldn't even be up this long. Go lie down and take a nap. I'll handle getting us food."

"All this doing nothing is boring." Dean argued, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's going to drive me crazy."

Seth smirked at the easy opening he'd been given. "That's a short drive."

That remark earned him a hard punch to his non-bruised arm. He flinched away from the concussed man, eyes wide. "What the hell man? It was a joke."

"Huh, looks like my sense of humor hasn't woken up yet." He gave an edgy smirk, eyes colder than ice. "Try again later."

The three times he'd been punched in the arm hadn't been the usual playful jabs they used to exchange frequently. Not even close. Each shot had a lot of force behind them and aimed to the part of the arm that would inflict the most pain. And the attitude that followed had been anything but apologetic or joking, it had been angry. He rubbed his arm and started to wonder if this was a side effect of the concussion or if maybe this was Dean's subconscious way of letting Seth know that it remembered what he had done.

Brown eyes studied the dirty blonde carefully, trying to gauge the older man. He needed to get to the bottom of this which meant trying to talk about this. "How are you feeling? I mean really feeling. Not what you think I want to hear."

"Told ya, I'm fine except for the headache." But he wasn't making eye contact anymore, focusing his gaze slightly over the left shoulder.

"The hospital gave me a prescription for you. Said you might need it even though I told them you weren't a fan of pain killers." Seth ventured cautiously. "I could get that filled if you want. Maybe it'll help."

"I'm good." Those words were terse, sounding a lot like they were forced out between shards of broken glass.

He knew what had his former brother worried and wanted him to know that he could rely on him to help him through this. "If you're worried about the meds, I'd take charge of it and only give you one when you really needed it. You know that I wouldn't cave and give you more than you were supposed to take just because you asked."

"No."

"Dean, if you're in that much pain…"

"I said that I'm fucking good so just leave it alone!" The dirty blonde snapped, eyes flashing warningly as they finally settled on him, his fist pounded hard against the countertop. He leaned in, voice a savage hiss. "Don't push me to do something I don't want to. If it gets too bad, I'll pop some fucking Motrin or something."

He held up his hands in surrender, taking a few steps back . "Ok, sorry I even brought it up."

Without another word, Dean stormed off to his bedroom and slammed the door with enough force that it rattled for a moments after.

Seth heaved a sigh and sat down on the stool in front of the kitchen island. He had to admit that hadn't been one of his smarter moves. Dean had a hair trigger temper and hated to be pushed into doing something he didn't want to, especially when he had made his feelings about the subject perfectly clear. So he shouldn't have continued to bring it up. It would have been a lot better to just drop the subject and trust that they'd find a way to deal with the pain in a manner that didn't draw the ire of his friend.

He face palmed as he realized that getting Dean angry probably wasn't good for his health. Would probably make that headache a lot worse. So far, he was really failing spectacularly at this whole helping him recover mission. But he could make it up to the older man. All he had to do was find Dean's laptop, a local grocery store that would deliver what they needed then cook him a breakfast that would make Mark Henry jealous.


	6. Worry

**Author's Note: So I went back and forth on this chapter. Had two versions of it written and ended up meshing the two. I wanted this to be a little lighter because there's plenty of angst yet to come.**

* * *

 _ **The truth is you don't know what is going to happen tomorrow. Life is a crazy ride, and nothing is guaranteed-Eminem**_

* * *

 _August 25, 2014_

Seth was starting to feel like he was in over his head. For the past two days, Dean had been downright hostile. He'd snap at anything that was said. Any attempt to try to cajole him out of that mindset only resulted in him being given a death glare. Things got slammed down or kicked out of the way. There was indecipherable muttering under his breath as he moved around the apartment.

It wasn't like he had never encountered this kind of behavior from the dirty blonde before. Because he had. Many times through out the years since they met. Never for such an extended period of time when the dirty blonde considered him his brother though, like he did now due to his memory loss. Normally, the older man apologized a little while later but not this time.

He didn't bother to respond when he was being spoken to anymore. Just gave that unnerving death stare. Stormed off and locked himself in his room. Only came out if he had to eat or use the bathroom. Didn't even bother to answer his cell phone when Roman called to check in.

Which was concerning because that was a side to him that he never saw before.

Despite what Dean liked to say and what he portrayed on TV; he wasn't that dark, brooding crazy guy who spent the majority of his time being angry. Far from it. Not that there weren't times when he lost his temper, because there were. Hell, everyone had those moments. But for the most part he was a laid back, twitchy but fun loving jokester who was always talking, laughing or singing something ridiculous.

Unless you did something to provoke him, belittle him or betray him. Then all bets were off. That was when he let the lunatic come out to play. Once that happened, he derived nothing but enjoyment from breaking you mentally with mind games and physically with his fists. He didn't stop until he got the revenge he felt the situation warranted and his adversary was left with scars he'd carry for the rest of his life, be it psychological or bodily.

But he was never just silent.

That was why he was really starting to wonder if there was more to this than Dean just being angry at being sidelined with a concussion. More than him just being bored or upset that his usual routine was disrupted. That he had to have someone staying with him. Or that he had to follow doctor's orders.

Because this felt different than any simple case of misplaced anger. A lot different. Maybe he was starting to remember? It would make sense. Put a lot of that unusual behavior in context.

Seth wasn't ready for that to happen yet. He hadn't had enough time to make for all the stupid, selfish nasty things he had done. Not that he was sure he ever could. But he wanted to try at least. If the dirty blonde's memory was back then he'd lose his chance and it would be back to business as usual.

He knew that he was being selfish again. That he should want for Dean to recover as quickly as he could. To have his memory back. And he did. Just not until he had proved to his former brother that he was sorry for the things he did and made some progress in trying to repair their fractured bond.

The bedroom door opened and Dean emerged from it, eyes landing on the couch. A frown tugged at his lips as he made his way over and say down on the chair next to it, leg bouncing up and down. "Ok, let's get this over with."

He sat up, confused as hell at that command. "Get what over with?"

"I've been an asshole the past couple of days." It was stated bluntly, without hesitation. "I know it and you know it."

This was the opening he needed. If the other man was remembering then he needed to know as soon as possible. That way he could prepare himself for the inevitable fight that would take place. He didn't want to be caught sleeping when it happened. "Is there a reason for it?"

"I hate this." A hand raked through tousled curls. "Being confined here, not able to do anything, feeling fucking useless. It don't sit right with me. Brings up some bad shit in my head. Makes me a moody prick."

"I'm sorry."

Blue eyes rolled, "You don't got nothin' to apologize for. I've been taking my shitty mood out on you cause you're here. I know you told the doc that you'd stay with me but if you wanna leave, you can. I'll be fine on my own."

"I'm not leaving just because you're in a bad mood." He informed the dirty blonde, holding his gaze. "Have I ever let you push me away before?"

"No."

"I want to help you through this and I get that you hate talking about this kind of stuff. But holding it all in and letting it eat at you can't be good for your health right now." The words poured from him as he took his own advice. "That reading material the doctor gave said a lot of concussion patient's suffer from heightened emotions and mood swings during their recovery. If you're going through that, don't hide it from me. We're brothers and I want to help you anyway I can."

"I get it, I do." Dean took a deep breath. "It ain't an excuse but when you brought up the meds and kept pushing about it, it just felt like you didn't understand why I don't want em and that kind of set me off."

Seth blinked, "I understand why you didn't want them. I really do. But I just hate knowing that you're in so much pain and trying to deal with it without anything. If you really need them, I would do everything I could to make sure that they didn't become an issue for you."

"I know." There's a heavy sigh, "Just don't trust myself not to fuck up again."

"I think that you're underestimating yourself as usual." He leaned forward, making sure to keep eye contact. "You're not that messed up kid anymore Dean. Haven't been for a long time. You've fought like hell to build your life into what it is now. Scratched, clawed and fought every obstacle in your way to get here because you're a hell of a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"Ok," He ducks his head, blushing slightly. "Enough of this feel good shit. I'm need to eat cause I'm fucking starving."

Seth chuckles at that, deciding to test this cease fire. "Can't have you wasting away, your midsection is already freakishly tiny as it is."

"Ass." This time when he punches him in the arm, it's more like the playful jabs they used to exchange. It passed quickly though as the dirty blonde sobers. "We good?"

"Yeah."

"Cool." Dean must have gotten to his feet much too quickly for someone with a concussion should because he grimaced, fingers flying to his temples. "Fuck, when's it going to stop feeling like my head's gonna explode?"

"I know it's not easy but you got to slow down man." He chided mildly, not wanting to break the peace between them. "Go a little under the speed limit for once in your life."

An eyebrow rose, "I don't know how to."

That admission didn't surprise him at all. Ever since he met Dean, he'd known that the man lived his life with the pedal to the metal. Full speed ahead and no hesitation. It had driven him crazy when they were adversaries but had been one of the things that he came to admire about him once they were teammates. How no matter how tired or beaten down they were, he had the ability to just keep going and never slow down. Because sometimes you needed someone to pull you along with them so you didn't get run over.

But that was double edged sword. Especially now. When his mind and body needed him to slow down so it could recover. There was no way around it or to pretend that it didn't. That meant that they had to a find a balance between Dean's a hundred mile an hour energy and the doctor recommended twenty mile an hour crawl to allow him to recuperate.

The only thing that he'd ever witnessed work for the older man was when he was absorbed in a book. He'd be completely still and silent as he worked his way through the pages. The only problem with that was that reading was currently on the what not to do list. Too much mental stimulation the paperwork said. But maybe they could start small, comic strips in the newspaper or some light-hearted children's books.

A smile tugged at his lips as he imaged Dean critiquing Doctor Seuss. Because he just knew that there was no way that he wouldn't have some strong opinions about them. It would definitely be entertaining for them both. All he'd have to do was find a site to download them onto Dean's archaic laptop…

"You know, when you get quiet then start grinning like an idiot, it's fucking creepy."

The all too familiar rasp broke him from his thoughts and he turned his attention back to the dirty blonde. "You ever read Doctor Seuss when you were a kid?"

"Yeah." There was a baffled expression on his face. "Why?"

"What did you think of his books?"

"That he was a fucked up on something when he wrote that shit and should never have made the Grinch a good guy in the end. Totally killed that fucking story for me."

Seth started laughing, not at all shocked by that statement. It was so Dean. Observant but skewed. A little cynical. "Only you would be disappointed that a children's author went with a happy ending."

"That book was leading up to the Grinch going crazy on that town for treating him the way it did then boom, cause of some little chick batting her eyes, he goes all soft and good guy. You just know a few months later that the little brat turned her back on him and started treating him like the rest of that town did." Dean ranted. "He should have gotten his revenge and been on his less than merry fucking way."

Ok, maybe he shouldn't download Doctor Seuss after all. Dean apparently got way too worked up about them. He might throw the computer at the wall or out the window if he read his stories again. That would definitely not be a good thing for his recovery. "Now I see why Roman objected when you offered to read his daughter a bedtime story when we used to crash there."

"Like I'd read her any of that mind-rotting, feel good, unrealistic garbage." He huffed, dragging a hand through his hair. "I'd have made one up cause you know I can tell a good story."

Yeah, he could. But he tended to get sidetracked, veer off into another story before he finally remembered to finish the first one. He just wasn't going to point that out. "Uh-huh."

"Huh, maybe that's what I should do when I decide to hang up my boots."

"Volunteer at the library during story time?" He was mentally cringing, thinking about Uncle Dean's story time and how many of those tales would involve the anti-hero stabbing the bad guys with a fork.

Blue eyes sparkled, "No, write books for kids. Like ones that are closer to fucking reality."

That prospect was even scarier. He hurriedly got to his feet, making his way into the kitchen. "Ok, so you said you were hungry! What do you feel like having for lunch?"

"You don't think I'd be good at that?" Dean followed behind him, a slight smirk on his face.

"I think it's too soon to be thinking about life after wrestling. We got too many good years ahead of us still." He said diplomatically, looking through the stocked fridge. "Plus, we both know that we're lifer's in this business."

"Yeah but it don't hurt to think about it."

That made him look at the dirty blonde, really look at him. "You worried about this?"

"A lot of guys can't come back from concussions." There was a shrug. "So I've been running things through my head the past couple of days. Just in case, you know?"

"You're going to recover completely and be back in that ring in no time." Because there was no way in hell that Seth could even contemplate that his stupidity could have ended the other man's career. "How about some grilled cheese?"

"Maybe I could be a commentator?" Dean either didn't hear the question or was ignoring it to get the thoughts out of his head. "I mean, I'm pretty good at runnin' my mouth and actually do know the names of moves unlike some of em. But I'd have to be the heel of the team cause I'd get too fucking bored of always having to praise people that I thought sucked."

It was obvious that he really wanted to talk about this. That he had to get this off his mind. So, he grabbed the stuff to make a grilled cheese and hummed in agreement, deciding to just go with it. "You'd be good at it, a lot better than what we got now."

"Feels like there's a but to that."

"I always kind of thought that you'd end up taking over promo class down at the performance center." He turned and gave the other man a grin in response to the bewildered stare he was getting. "By the time you hang up your boots, Dusty will probably be ready to retire. I could see you picking up where he left off and loving every minute of being the one to shape the next generation of mic masters."

"Nah, I actually don't like teaching much."

"What?" Seth turned his attention away from the sandwiches cooking on the new skillet he got and his eyebrows raised. "Seriously?"

"I did it for a while." Dean lowered his gaze to the countertop in front of it, finger tracing the marbled pattern. "When I was getting clean and only working shows on the weekends, I took over training the hopefuls at the school that I trained at."

"You did?"

"Yeah and I mean, it was cool but not really my thing." A shrug followed that. "I ain't patient enough to deal with people who fuck up the simple shit or only want to use wrestling to get someplace else."

Seth flipped the sandwiches onto plates and thought about that. He could understand where the other man was coming from but he again, he felt like he was underestimating himself. Sliding one plate, across the counter, he shrugged. "Just don't rule it out completely. I think you could kill it."

"Course I'd kill it, no doubt about that." Dean tore into his sandwich as he poured them something to drink. "I just know that I'd end up chewing out an idiot for not knowing how to hold a mic and get my ass fired."

Something else occurred to him and he grinned, "You could be a mouthpiece for someone. Like Heyman for Brock."

Dean chewed thoughtfully then shook his head. "Nah, I couldn't just stand there at ringside and not get involved in the action." There was a pause. "How about you? Ever think about what you're gonna do when it's over?"

"Well, you know I've been working on starting a school soon. So I think I'll end up training the future generation when I decide call it a career." Seth considered the other options that were available. "Beside that, I'd probably become a road agent or producer."

"Yeah, I could see you doing that. You love all that organizational shit." The dirty blonde polished off his sandwich and sat back, teeth gnawing at his lower lip. "But all this is years away, right?"

"It is," He made sure to catch those blue eyes. "For both of us."


	7. Results

_**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. Been dealing with a minor case of writer's block and work being absolutely insane for the last couple of months. I'm hoping that when it slows down in a few weeks that I'll be able to update more frequently.**_

* * *

 _ **The most I can do for my friend is simply be his friend -Henry David Thoreau**_

* * *

 _August 30, 2014_

Seth tapped his foot impatiently, hastily turning pages of the magazine. Not that he was actually reading it, he was just using it to distract himself for the last hour. He hated waiting rooms. Absolutely abhorred them. It would have been a lot better if he was allowed to go into the room with Dean. Not only could he keep the eccentric man calm but it would be a hell of a lot better for his own nerves if he could be there to see firsthand how things were progressing.

He wasn't expecting Dean to pass these tests.

There was no way it was remotely possible.

It was only day twelve since he'd suffered the severe concussion. That wasn't nearly enough time for a high grade concussion to heal. Given what he saw so far, recovery looked to be a long way off. The dirty blonde was still prone to the crippling headaches and had the sensitivity to light and noise at times. Plus he was still exhibiting those odd mood swings that made it tense and uncomfortable to be around him when they struck.

His memory hadn't shown any signs of returning yet either.

So no, he wasn't naïve enough to let himself believe that Dean would burst out of the testing room, announcing loudly that he had a clean bill of health. Hell he really didn't think that this appointment was anything but a formality. Nothing more than a basic necessity of the protocol. Pretty much a waste of their time. They'd walk out of here with another appointment for an evaluation in a couple of weeks.

But deep down, he was still concerned.

What Seth was worried about was whether or not there was even the slightest bit of improvement. To him, he didn't see any signs that the older man was getting any better. Things were exactly the same as they had been since Ambrose was released from the hospital. That was troublesome. It could be an indicator that his stupid decision to curb stomp Dean's head into a pile of cinderblocks had done irreversible damage.

He pulled his attention away from the magazine and cast a quick glance around the room again. For a waiting room, it wasn't too bad and didn't have that usual sterile hospital feel. They had a coffee machine, vending machine and tons of magazines to keep you occupied. The chairs weren't the usual hard plastic ones but nicely padded and had some room to them. Guess they had to be since most people who came to the Neurologist with someone would be waiting for a while for them to conduct the litany of tests.

The pages started getting turned quicker. It was killing him to be relegated to nothing more than sitting there, left completely in the dark about how things were going. He could ask the lady behind the desk again if there was any news. But the last time he had done that, she made it clear to him that he would know as soon as the doctor was finished and that her patience with him was wearing thin. So he didn't want to press his luck by asking again and getting kicked out of the waiting room.

He really needed to do something to get his mind off this. Standing and dropping his magazine into the unoccupied chair beside him, he stretched and headed over to the coffee machine. Selecting what he wanted, he wasn't hopeful that it would be any good. His first sip confirmed that hunch. The liquid in his cup that was trying to pass itself off as coffee was more like a bitter sludge that would probably melt his insides.

"Mr. Rollins?"

The voice startled him and he jostled the cup, sloshing some of the nasty liquid out of the cup and onto his shirt. He grimaced but ignored the sticky stain, crossing over to the receptionist. "You called? Is the testing done?"

"It is." She looked relieved that she would no longer have to deal with him. "You can join Dr. Stevens and Mr. Ambrose in room two."

"Thank you!" The words were sincere as the door next to the desk buzzed to allow him through, tossing his half full cup of nasty coffee in the garbage bin in the hallway.

His heart hammered in his chest, palms sweaty as he made the short journey down the hall to the room the receptionist indicated. When he entered, Dr. Stevens and Dean were already seated at the long table. Seth took a seat next to his former brother and gave the dirty blonde a quick once over. It didn't surprise him that Dean was casually leaning in his chair, feet thrown up on the table and arms crossed over his chest, fingers drumming absently against his biceps. But despite the all too familiar scene, he was paler than normal and looked tired despite the fact that he'd been getting more rest than he was used to.

"Thank you for joining us Mr. Rollins." The Neurologist was on the younger side, probably a few years older than them, not yet beaten down by the gravity of what he did for a living. "Usually, we don't divulge patient information to anyone but the patient and their family. However in this case, Mr. Ambrose insisted that you're his brother and that you needed to hear what's going on with his health."

"Because he wouldn't believe me if he didn't hear it for himself." Dean bit out tersely, rolling his eyes. "It's a really annoying habit of his."

One of those sharp, twisting pangs of guilt stabbed into him again but he pushed it aside, needing to focus on what the doctor had to say. "Well thank you for bending the rules in this case. How did things go?"

"Honestly, given the circumstances, we were quite surprised at how well this round of testing went. There has been significant improvement since the initial results of testing that the hospital performed a couple of days after the injury occurred."

He blinked, "Are you saying that he's recovered?"

"No, far from it but he's further ahead than we expected him to be at this stage in the recovery process." Dr. Stevens consulted the file in front of him. "Initially the concussion rated between a second and third grade. I feel comfortable in downgrading that prognosis to a solid grade two."

That really didn't sound like much of an improvement in Seth's opinion. "That's a big difference?"

"It is." The doctor informed them earnestly. "In cases such as these where the patient suffered a severe frontal and rear lobe trauma, we don't usually see any moderate improvement until we've reached the thirty day mark or longer. But in this case, we are seeing marked improvement a lot sooner than we expected."

"Told ya!" Dean had a victorious smirk. "I'm indestructible. I'll be back in the ring before you know it."

The doctor shook his head slightly, obviously used to dealing with difficult patients who inferred what they wanted to. "Now, as I already explained to Dean, this is by no means me clearing Mr. Ambrose to resume heavy physical activity. He's still to follow the guidelines of the protocol and to return at the thirty day mark to gauge his progress. But these results are very encouraging that we'll see a successful recovery."

It sounded good, amazing even. But he still had concerns and felt the need to voice them aloud because he knew that Dean wouldn't mention them. "How come he's still getting the headaches, sensitivity and has memory loss if he's making strides in recovering?"

"Concussions are hard to predict but the headaches and sensitivity are very common conditions that slowly lessen over time. Based on the results of these tests that we conducted today, I have no reason not to expect that you'll see them start to ease soon."

Dean huffed, "Great, we done? I really need to use the bathroom."

"By all means," Dr. Stevens gestured toward to the door. "It's the third door on the left in the hall."

The dirty blonde muttered something about the doc being grilled under his breath but got up and headed out of the room with a pointed look at the two men.

Seth leaned forward, feeling like the doctor had dismissed his patient for a reason and that the self-professed lunatic knew that. He needed to get to the bottom of this as soon as he possibly could. "Ok, give it to me straight. What aren't you telling me doc?"

"You asked about his memory loss." The doctor consulted his file again. "That is a perplexing detail."

"Perplexing?"

"Usually, in these type of cases, concussion related amnesia tends to dissipate in a few days to a week unless there's a further issue. Given what these test results show us, his mental facilities are not impaired in any shape. He's not exhibiting signs of disorientation or confusion. There are no indicators that his brain function has slowed or that his neurons aren't responding properly."

"What does that mean?" All that technical medical jargon was doing was giving him a headache and a gnawing pit of dread in his stomach." Are you saying that that there's something else wrong with him?"

The doctor sighed, "Medically, there is no reason that his memory shouldn't have improved, if not returned completely, by this stage of his recovery."

Seth digested that, confused and unsettled. "Then why doesn't he remember anything from the last several months?"

"Traumatic incidents can cause the individual that experienced them to repress certain details or completely forgot entire blocks of time. It's a highly common defense mechanism employed when something's happened that the person can not deal with. Only when the person is mentally, emotionally and physically ready to confront the truth does the wall they built around the memory begin to crumble."

He took a deep breath, slightly relieved but also not entirely convinced that what he was being told was true. "Dean's had a pretty rough life. Been through some horrible things and he's never hidden from them before. Always confronted his past head on. So why would he avoid remembering it now?"

"No one, not even Mr. Ambrose himself, knows why he's repressing the events of the last few months."

"What? That doesn't make any sense." Seth licked his dry lips. "How could he not know?"

The doctor gave him a long, hard look. "I'm not a psychologist or Psychiatrist Mr. Rollins. I can only tell you what I've witnessed in the few cases I've come across that dealt with this. But from what I've seen, the person repressing the memories isn't actually aware that they're doing it. Some people choose to try to fill it in with slightly altered, more pleasant versions of what they think happened while others, such as we're seeing with Dean, just block it out completely until they're ready to accept what happened."

It made a hell of a lot of sense. Dean had finally had some stability in his otherwise crazy life. He had people he could depend on, that he cared about and trusted implicitly before Seth's betrayal destroyed that. Of course he'd prefer to recall those times and forgot the months of torment and destruction that followed. Really couldn't blame him for not wanting to remember that.

Hell, Seth wished he could forget it ever happened himself.

"I'm confident that once Mr. Ambrose feels secure enough to deal with the issues, his memory will return."

"You don't have an idea of when that will be?"

"As I said, only Dean will know when he's ready to deal with those memories." Dr. Stevens closed the file. "All things considered, your friend is progressing better than we could have expected and I'm encouraged that he'll continue to improve. At this point, unless something drastic happened to cause a set-back, I feel that there's no reason that he won't be able to resume his life as it was before the injury."

Seth ran his hands through his hair. It was great news. Much better than he had been expecting. He had been afraid to even hope that they'd get a good prognosis at this point in time. So why didn't he feel as relieved as he should?

The door to the room opened and Dean came back in, smirk on his face and a bottle of water in his hand. "So I killed as much time as I could, you manage to keep my brother from convincing himself that I'm not getting better?"

"I think I managed to alleviate the fears he expressed."

"Yeah, you did help me a lot." He agreed quickly, not wanting the dirty blonde to pick up on anything that he was feeling. "Thank you again. Do we need to set his next appointment up now?"

"That's already been taken care of." Ambrose piped up, looking like a kid in a candy store for some reason about that fact.

"You actually made a doctor's appointment?" The shock was easy to hear. "This isn't like the time you said you paid that parking ticket but you really just threw it away, is it?"

"No, now can we get the hell out of here?" Dean's tone bordered on a whine. "I'm starting to get itchy."

That brought a genuine grin to Seth's lips. It was nice to see that some thing's never changed. Whenever the former US champion was someplace he didn't want to be, he claimed that he got itchy. If you ignored him, well, things could get ugly. There was a mall in Laredo Texas that they were banned from ever returning to that would testify to that.

Dr. Steven's stood. "I'll see you next time."

"Yeah, great, now can we go?" The dirty blonde's hand splayed over his collarbone and began tapping frantically. Blue eyes flicked around the room. "Like right now. I need fresh air."

"We're going man." Seth stood and followed behind the other man out of the conference room and down the hallway.

As they were leaving, Dean threw a cheeky wink toward the receptionist who giggled like a giddy school girl instead of the evil, sarcastic witch that she had been to Seth. An all too familiar smug smirk was painted on the face of the dirty blonde. Those damn dimples that always signaled trouble prominently displayed and blue eyes twinkled mischievously.

He skidded to a halt once they were in the parking lot, rounded on the other man and threw a disbelieving look at his former brother. "You better not have done what I think you did."

"What?" There was all kinds of feigned innocence in that query and subsequent denial. "I didn't do anything."

"What you're telling me is that while you were supposedly killing time so the doctor could answer my questions, you didn't hit on the receptionist."

Dean wiggled slightly, gaze lowering to the blacktop beneath his feet. "Well, I mean, I had to do something cause it was taking so long."

"And reading a magazine never crossed your mind?"

"If you remember," The annoyance was plain in his voice, "I'm not currently allowed to read because the damn paper says it's too much stimulation. It never said I couldn't hit on chicks or get their phone numbers."

Seth face palmed, hating the fact that the self-professed lunatic had found a loophole to exploit in the protocol. It made him wonder how many more he'd found and when he'd try to put them to use. "Are you actually going to call her?"

"Nope." The head of tousled blonde curls shook. "She's not my type. It was just something to do to keep myself occupied."

"Oh, that's just perfect." He complained. "You do know she's going to be even more hostile next time we're here because of that, right?"

"Why?"

"Because you lead her on…"

Blue eyes rolled, "I did nothing of the sort. I was just being my usual charming self. Not my fault that she read more into it and handed over her number without me even having to ask for it. What was I supposed to do, be an asshole and tell her that I didn't want it? Crush her self-esteem?"

"Well you could always stop flirting and getting numbers from women that you have no intention of actually dating. I know you enjoy it but it always ends up backfiring in the long run." Seth tried to reason with the older man. "I really don't want a replay of what happened with that bartender when we were down in FCW."

There was a chuckle as the eccentric man slipped into the passenger seat, "Damn that chick was crazy. But, hey, no big deal. It all worked itself out in the end."

Seth just sighed as he slid behind the wheel and clicked his seatbelt into place. One of the things that he learned over the years it was that it was better to just let the topic drop. If he kept admonishing and pushing the other man about it, it would just motivate Dean to do something crazier, like actually call this chick. So he deftly changed the subject to a more neutral one. "I'm hungry. Do you want to swing by a drive through and get some food or wait until we get home and I'll cook something?"

Dean just gave him a look like he was stupid, "Do I really need to answer that?"

"No, you don't." A defeated groan passed his lips, " I assume I can't talk you into stopping someplace that won't entirely clog our arteries either."

"You'd assume correctly." There was a teasing smirk that followed. "I appreciate you playing chef and all but my body's not used to all that healthy shit you cook. It needs preservatives, grease and mystery meat thrown in every now and then to function properly. Since it's been a while since I've last had anything that fits that criteria, I need a double cheeseburger and the largest order of fries that we can get."

That actually sounded appealing to Seth but he'd never let the dirty blonde know that or else he'd try to take advantage of it. "I'll agree to it this time since we got good news but it's not going to become a routine."

"Whatever you say little bro."


	8. Cracks

_**It's hard to tell who has your back, from who has it long enough just to stab you in it― Nicole Richie**_

* * *

 _September 10, 2014_

Seth had to admit that he was finally starting to feel encouraged. Not out loud of course because that admission would potentially be opening up a whole of can worms that he wasn't ready to deal with. But to himself, he could quietly admit it. In the days since Dean's appointment with the neurologist, the dirty blonde had been slightly calmer and more relaxed than he'd been since he had awoken in the hospital. Plus, just as the doctor said would happen, the headaches and sensitivity to light and sound had eased up considerably.

It had started to feel a lot more like the normal he was used to. The normal that he'd been stupid enough to cast aside. Dean was almost completely back to being the funny, quirky, off the wall, pain in the ass that he'd always been. That was a huge relief even though the excess energy the man had after weeks of idleness could be annoying at times. Their time together since the appointment had been spent regaling each other with tales of their Indy days, chuckling at sacred memories of their shared road experiences and having inane but unheated debates about the existence of Big Foot.

Still no sign of Dean's repressed memories returning though.

In all honesty, he really didn't know how to feel about that.

On one hand, the last few weeks had given him back something that he didn't think he needed. It was extremely lonely at the top. He missed real friendship and brotherhood, companionship that wasn't fake and contrived like what the authority provided him. Gave him back a piece of himself that he buried deep down when he tossed aside his loyalty for the chance to achieve his professional dreams. So there was a part of him, even though acknowledging it made him feel horrible, that wondered if maybe it wouldn't be so bad if those memories stayed locked up in whatever vault that the eccentric man's mind had hidden them in.

But on the other hand, the realist in him knew that Dean needed to remember it all no matter how painful and destructive that would turn out to be. That even though he would inevitably lose everything that had been rebuilt over this time period, it had to happen because Dean wouldn't be whole again until it did. Not to mention that this whole situation could implode at any time. It was just a temporary illusion that would shatter into a bunch of jagged shards when the events of the last few months were exposed. There was no real chance for forgiveness or closure until the older man was a hundred percent mentally and physically well again.

Not that he thought that when things were back to normal of the last two months that he'd be forgiven for his actions. Because he didn't. The things he'd done and said were pretty much unforgivable. Not only had he taken great pleasure in ripping apart the shield and mentally tearing Dean down but his stupidity could have killed him. While he called taking care of the wounded man an act of atonement, the reality was that there was no way he could ever make up for the things he'd snarled and the reprehensible act that he committed.

Too bad there was a tiny, irrational part of him that longed for it.

He shook those thoughts from his head and looked up as the bedroom door opened, a tousled dirty blonde emerging from inside. Ambrose was bleary eyed and his hair stuck up all over the place as he flopped down on the recliner. "Hey man, glad you finally got your lazy ass up."

"I want coffee." The statement was sullen, matching that premature pout that it drawled from.

A smirk curved Seth's lips because this had become almost a ritual for the last week. Dean complaining about his coffee and Seth having to remind him why things were the way they were. "You should know by now that I'm a considerate guy. There's already a nice, freshly brewed pot of decaf just waiting for you."

Blue eyes rolled, face flushing angrily. "Fuck you and your decaf, that ain't coffee."

"Really? Cause it says coffee right on the can and they can't lie about stuff like that since false advertising could get them sued…"

"I don't give a shit what the damn can says." There was a disgusted huff, a hand angrily slashed through the air in dismissal. "It's a poor fucking imitation of the real thing! I can't even pretend not to notice since you won't let me have any damn sugar in it either!"

He shrugged at the murderous gaze trained on him. "Sorry man but you know what the protocol says. Caffeine and sugar are strictly forbidden until you're cleared."

"I hate the protocol." The raspy hiss was to be expected but the tantrum like stomp of the foot was a new twist. "Every-fucking-thing is forbidden. It's nothing more than a damn conspiracy!"

Teeth sunk into the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing at the petulance being displayed by a twenty-eight year old man. "Not everything you don't agree with is a conspiracy."

"Riiiight and Area 51 is just a normal Air-Force base." It was sneered disdainfully, arms crossed stubbornly over his chest.

Seth groaned, not about to engage any further. He knew all too well how a discussion on Area 51 would go and he really didn't want to spend the next few days hashing it all out and trying to explain away the other man's claims of aliens being housed there. "How about some orange juice or a nice, healthy protein shake then?"

"I'd rather jam a fork into my eye socket repeatedly."

"Uh," That response really threw him off and he tried to blink away the sudden onslaught of confusion that settled on him. His stomach twisted violently as a mental image of that happening sprang to mind. "I'd really rather that you didn't do that."

"Then let me have some real coffee." A scheming smirk twisted his mouth. "I mean, it's not like you haven't broken the protocol already."

Seth was back to being confused, "What? How? I didn't let you have soda when we went through the drive-thru…"

"But you got me one when I was in the hospital." That grin turned victorious. "So really there's no reason not to let me have one little cup of real coffee. Won't even put any sugar in it."

"That doesn't count!" He protested vehemently. "We weren't informed about your concussion or the protocol at that point so I didn't know that you couldn't have it."

"Don't matter, you gave me it to me brother." Dean was the definition of smug. It shifted into a calculating look. Shrewd gaze squinting in determination. "But I'll be willing to let this go if you're willing to compromise."

Brown eyes narrowed as they assessed his brother, "Oh?"

"I'll force myself to drink that fake ass coffee if you'll agree to us getting the hell outta here for a while."

Seth groaned, kicking himself for not seeing where this was going sooner. He could understand the dirty blonde's desire to leave the house. Hell, he felt the same. The problem was that if they went out, people would see them together and chaos would erupt. Not to mention that excessive stimulation was on the list of things that the other man wasn't currently permitted to do.

"You realize that both of these options are against the rules." He tried to reason. "And that you're putting me in a very uncomfortable spot since I promised that I'd make sure that you did what you were supposed to do to get better."

"Screw the rules."

Even though he'd been expecting that, it still irked him to receive that response. It was always so easy for his brother to just disregard doing what was best for him. Constantly. No matter what the consequences were. If he'd just learn to stop pushing and do what he knew was best for him then life would be a hell of a lot easier for him.

"Well, what's it gonna be? Coffee or getting the hell out for a while?"

A heavy sigh tumbled from him but he held eye contact, standing his ground. "You might not care about gambling with your recovery but I do so I won't agree to either."

"Come on Seth!" His tone was smooth and persuasive. "You know there's no way that your cross fit obsessed ass ain't chomping at the bit to get out of here and do something active."

Direct hit.

But he kept his face devoid of any emotion.

"It ain't like I'm suggesting we run a fucking marathon or sign up for one of those crazy ass cross fit tournaments you love so much." Dean made a face. "All I want to do is just get some air, stretch my muscles and clear my head."

"We can't do that for a number of reasons-"

"If you're worried about fans, you don't have to." Blue eyes peered earnestly into his. "I know a lot of places to go where there's nothing to worry about but you and the land."

He ran a hand over his face, "Physically, you're not up to it."

"I won't try to do any of the harder trails." There was a promise in his voice. "I'll stick to the easy route and won't push myself too hard. If it's too much then I'll admit it and we can come back here."

"I don't know…"

"I need to do this." Dean leaned forward, imploring him. "I can't spend another day just sitting here and doing nothing but staring at the walls. I feel like I'm starting to lose what's left of my damn mind."

This was such a horrible idea. Nothing good would come of it. He knew that but yet here he was, considering giving in. "If I was to agree to this then you would have to let me know the second anything started to feel off. I don't care how small of an issue it seemed like,"

"I will," Dean held up his hand, giving a well known hand gesture. "Scouts honor."

"You know that doesn't reassure me at all since I know that you were never a boy scout."

His hand curled into a fist and he stuck it out in another well known gesture. "Believe that brother."

Seeing the shield's old symbol of unity, of excellence was like getting punched by the Big Show in the stomach. He wanted to yell at the other man to take it back, not to do this. Or open his mouth and spill the bitter, disgusting truth. But he didn't do any of that. His shaky fist jutted out before he could stop himself, taking it's place beside Dean's. "Don't make me regret this."

"Wouldn't think of it."

* * *

Seth pulled the car into the lot and sighed, casting an annoyed glance over at Dean who was grinning victoriously. Just as the eccentric man had said, there'd been no run in with fans and no issues tackling the simple trail. It had felt good to get even that little of a workout in. His body had been craving it and savored every minute of their hike. "I don't want to hear it."

"Why little bro?" The dirty blonde's smile stretched wider, almost joker-like in it's visage especially when he tilted his head. "Cause I was right? I said that we needed to get out and do something to get the blood pumping. Felt good didn't it? Huh? Huh?"

"Anyone ever told you that you're so humble because if so, they lied to you." It was said good naturedly though. "But seriously man, how do you feel? Everything all right?"

"I'm fine." A lazy wave of dismissal following that proclamation. "So you can settle your kettle mother hen."

Brown eyes appraised him cautiously, "You sure? No headache or nausea from being out in the sun for a while? You're not light headed or dizzy?"

"Nah, my muscles are a little stiff but since I've been sitting on my ass for the last three weeks that's to be expected." As if to prove his point, he opened the door and climbed out then stretched, grousing as they obviously popped and creaked in response. He straightened up and smirked, throwing punches at the air. "I feel like I could get into the ring right now and kick some ass."

He followed suit then headed toward the apartment, stifling laughter at how his brother was still bouncing around like an overly excited puppy. Those chuckles died in his throat when the hyper man slipped and almost face planted on the stairs. His arm shot out on instinct, wrapping around the dirty blonde's bicep and he braced himself to keep the both of them upright.

When he calmed down, he shot worried glance at his brother. "Take it easy there champ, I didn't catch you and we would've been right back at the beginning."

"Damn stairs have always had it out for me." He muttered bitterly as he righted himself, scowling down at the stone beneath his boots. His hand fished in the pocket of his shorts for his house keys. It took a few moments but he finally produced them and got them into the lock.

"Since I compromised on this, I'm going to make you eat really healthy…" The words lodged in his throat and his body froze in the open doorway, staring at the unexpected person that was occupying the stool by the breakfast bar.

Seth's heart hammered in his chest. A cold, clammy sweat broke out on his skin, He was not ready for this yet. Thought he'd manage to make it through the thirty days before he would encounter this. But obviously karma decided that it was time for him to face the consequences of his actions.

"Ro!" Dean exclaimed as the elder member of the trio rose to his feet. He pulled him into a hug but the big man's eyes were locked on the doorway over his shoulder. "Didn't know you were planning to come! Should've told me man and we could've grabbed you at the airport."

"Wanted to surprise you." Roman pulled back, his burning gaze still locked onto Seth who had yet to move away from the doorway. "But looks like I'm the one who's gotten surprised. Wasn't expecting **him** to be here."

"Oh shit, that's right." Dean's eyes flitted between them. "You two are on the outs right now."

"That what he said?"

"It's the truth." The words escaped Seth in little more than a whisper as he fought the urge to turn around and bolt back to his car. But he held his ground and waited, knowing that this was his final stand. He was about to receive his long awaited punishment for what he'd done to Dean. "Wasn't going to lie to him about that."

"So you'll just lie to him bout everything else." Roman shot back, eyebrow raised as he took several steps forward, toward the youngest member of the three. "It really shouldn't surprise me that you're taking advantage of this situation since he doesn't remember. Always determined to find a new level of rock bottom huh?"

Inside the apartment, the tension was palpable.

Air crackled with electricity.

Dean, who'd always been extra perceptive to that charged atmosphere, moved so he was standing between them, his hands up to halt the bigger man's approach. "I ain't trying to owe my landlord a new carpet cause the blood won't come out. You two wanna get heated then take that shit out to my backyard and get it settled."

The Samoan's eyes narrowed, "I have no problem with that."

Seth took a deep breath and swallowed thickly. It was time to man up and get what he had coming to him. "Me either."

With that, he turned and headed out the door and down the stairs. Heavy footfalls shadowed his path and he unlatched the gate that led to apartments small, overgrown backyard. Steeling himself, he turned and faced his accuser. "Listen, I know what this must look like-"

"Really?" Roman got right into his face, glaring down menacingly at him. "Going to spout off about how this isn't some ploy by the authority to either destroy Dean once and for all or try to turn him to your side."

"They don't even know that I'm here."

"You're a liar."

"I'm not lying." Hands twisted in the collar of Seth's t-shirt, eliciting a gasp and he was pulled up to his tip-toes so that they were eye to eye. "Triple H and Stephanie didn't send me here and as far as they know, I'm back home in Davenport."

"Why are you here then?"

"Because once I realized what I actually did, I just needed to know that he was going to be alright!" He twisted, trying to break free of the iron clad grip. "So I visited him in the hospital and he woke up. Things just kind of snowballed from there!"

Roman laughed but it held no humor. "It's really convenient. Dean being without his memory gave you the chance to act like his best friend and to worm your way into his home. But what's the endgame architect? Break him down completely? Get him to trust you again then stab him in the back with another curb stomp through cinderblocks?"

"It's not like that man!" He protested vehemently. "I never should have gone to those extremes and there's no way to make up for it but I needed the chance to try! I couldn't just sit back and let him go through this recovery on his own when I know that he'd blow it off and jeopardize his life by not adhering to doctor's orders. I care too much…"

"Bullshit!" The bigger man shoved him hard, sending him flying onto his ass into the overgrown grass. "You don't care about him at all, obviously you never did. And you sure as hell don't feel bad about anything you've done since you turned your back on us. This was nothing more than you being an opportunist and seeing a way to capitalize on what you had already done to him when you drove his head through those damn blocks!"

Seth used the chair that was at the small table to pull himself back to his feet. His hands tightly gripped the back, knuckles turning white. Frustration was boiling in his blood. He had to keep his head though because he would not win a physical battle with Roman. "Of course I care! We're brothers! I know that there's no coming back from what I did but I couldn't not help him. It's the only thing I could do."

Roman glared at him and shook his head in disgust. "You know, if I didn't know how much of a scumbag you really are, I'd think you actually believe the bullshit coming out of your mouth."

"It's the truth."

"Ah, I get it now." Fingers snapped close to his nose. "Got a guilty conscience and you're doing this to ease it. Plus, it sets you up in a cushy spot. Dean recovers with your help, he feels grateful and you can use that to your advantage."

"No, it has nothing to so with any of that! Why the hell won't you believe what I'm telling you?" His hand angrily tugged at his hair. "Why are you looking for some deep seeded dark motivations where there are none?"

"Because you've proven over and over that we can't trust you! That there is no low you won't stoop to in your quest to destroy Dean!" Roman countered without remorse. "So how could you think for one second that I'd believe you when you've done nothing but shown us that you're a spineless, sniveling coward who's always looking to take the easy way out. No matter who you have to hurt in the process."

"You can think whatever the hell you want about me but the truth is, it really doesn't matter to me anymore." A tired shrug followed that declaration. "All that does matter to me is making sure that Dean makes a full recovery."

Roman nodded, "I agree with that but your days of being involved are over."

"That's not up to you. That's up to Dean and he doesn't have a problem with me helping him." His fingers tightened around the back of the chair. "Ask him and he'll tell you that himself."

"Only because he doesn't remember how much of a sneaky, lying, conniving, traitorous weasel you really are."

"SHUT UP!" His irritation at being belittled constantly and his annoyance of his motives being questioned boiled over and he yanked the chair into the air before sending it crashing violently back down to the ground. "JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!"

An audible gasp cut through the anger and his head snapped toward the sound. Brown eyes looked with wide, haunted blue eyes and he felt his stomach drop to his feet. "I-I-I didn't know you were there."

Dean's gaze flickered between the chair and Seth numerous times. His expression morphed several times before it settled into something stoic. With a disgusted shake of his head, he turned and stormed off.


	9. Shattered

_**Betrayal is the only truth that sticks― Arthur Miller**_

* * *

 _September 10, 2014_

Seth stood there like a deer caught in the headlights, his eyes locked on the spot that Dean had disappeared from. That familiar weight bore down on him, making his shoulders sag and that cold pit of dread spread through his stomach. His brain was running tirelessly as it tried to piece together what the look on the dirty blonde's face, those turbulent emotion in his eyes and his hasty retreat really meant. Was he just upset about the scene he witnessed? Seeing the two men he considered his brothers at each other's throat might provoke that response.

That logic didn't feel right though. Rang hollow. Because it wasn't in Dean's nature to be skittish about those kinds of scenes. If anything, he'd watch them battle it out and wouldn't do anything to interfere since it was a fair fight. Probably be munching on popcorn while he did.

 _"He remembers." A voice in his mind whispered knowingly._

Something in his heart twisted painfully because he had a feeling it was right.

He was vaguely aware of Roman brushing past him, shoulder checking him out of his way as the overly loud crash of something inside the apartment shattered the ominous, heavy silence that had descended. From there on, it was a crescendo of destruction. As much as he wanted to follow and stop it, knew that he should since this was his fault but he couldn't move. His limbs were completely frozen and ignored the command to move from his brain. There was yelling from the house now, the gravelly raised voice causing goose-bumps to raise on his skin even though he couldn't make out what it was yelling.

A shudder ran down his spine as another loud, shattering crash punctuated the heated exchange.

The front door banged open and heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs. He tensed in preparation, excepting to be met by one of the two irate men with a barrage of fists. But to his surprise, it didn't happen. A figure passed by the open gate but it was moving too quickly to ascertain who it was. Shaking, shallow breaths escaped his lungs as he felt relief sweep through his body.

In the distance he could hear an engine crank and tires squeal on the pavement. More footsteps pounded down the stairs but they didn't venture toward his location. They paused at the sidewalk, a loud stomp of a boot-clad foot punctuating their apparent anger at whatever transpired inside. "DEAN!"

That short-lived relief fled his body, leaving it feeling cold and unsettled. Suddenly, he found that he could move. He took off running toward the shout. His mind weaving a scenario that he hoped wasn't the case. Pulling up short so he wouldn't collide with Roman, he followed the paralyzed figure's gaze toward the parking lot. Wide, fearful eyes landed on the spot where he had parked his rental a few minutes ago. All that was there now was an empty space and the faint impression of rubber burns on the concrete.

"How the hell…" The words left Seth's mouth in a dismayed whisper. This could not be happening. Things couldn't have gotten this out of control. It had be a mistake. His hand flew to his pocket, looking for the keys to the car.

It was empty.

"Oh no, no, damn it." He croaked as the realization that he either dropped them or that they must have fallen out of his pocket during the initial confrontation in the apartment.

Roman sighed loudly, pushing hands through his hair. He closed his eyes and shook his head then turned his attention toward Seth. "This is all your fault."

"I-I-…" The words died in his throat because he really couldn't argue that point. Because it was the truth. His actions over the last few months were to blame for everything. If he hadn't turned his back on the Shield and joined forces with the authority, this situation would never have taken place.

They lapsed into a tense, suffocating silence as the reality of the situation settled over them. Seth tried to figure out what to do and how to fix this. Because he needed to have a game-plan now. No more making it up as he went along. Roman was probably plotting how to kill him and dispose of the body without garnering attention.

He dropped down onto the stairs leading up to Dean's front door and sighed, pushing a hand through his messy hair. "This isn't good. Not only is he not supposed to be alone but he's also not supposed to drive until he's been pronounced medically clear."

"Dean wasn't exactly in the mood to listen to reason." The bigger man rolled his eyes. "If he had been then he would have stopped trashing his apartment when I tried to talk to him instead of chucking the entire dish strainer full of dishes at the wall."

"Oh."

"What were you thinking?" Gray eyes narrowed.

"That I could help him…"

"No, not that." He took a deep breath before he continued. "What were you thinking when you were standing on that announcer's table about to curb stomp a man that had been your friend, had been your brother, through a pile of cinderblocks?"

There were so many things he could say. A million different excuses or justifications that he could spit out to try to deflect. But he didn't use any of them. A sigh trailed over his lips as he forced himself to meet the angry gaze. "I made myself stop thinking or else I wouldn't have been able to do it."

"Why would you ever agree to it in the first place?"

"I didn't know what I was agreeing with until it was too late." He swallowed thickly. "I couldn't back out or else they would have taken everything away from me. I couldn't let that happen."

Roman looked disgusted by that answer. "So the fact that you could of paralyzed or even killed Dean didn't matter cause at least you'd still have the authority and that tainted briefcase by your side?"

His eyes closed, "I didn't think about the possible outcomes."

"Jesus."

"I was on autopilot after it happened. None of it really registered until the next day, after I got suspended and was back at the hotel. I realized exactly what it was that I did and what could've happened. Then Hunter called to update me, bragged about how Dean's doctor didn't know if he'd ever wake up. I couldn't just go back to Iowa after I heard that, I needed to see for myself that he was wrong and that Dean would be alright."

"Why didn't you leave once you knew he would be? Why put yourself and Dean in this situation when you knew that the second he remembered that all hell was going to break loose?"

There was no way to explain it and have Roman believe that there were no ulterior motives for doing it. That was just how things were between them now. Seth could tell him that the sky was blue and he'd call bullshit. But he tried anyway. "Told you, I couldn't leave him alone and take a chance that he'd jeopardize his recovery. I needed him to get better and be able to get back in the ring."

"Why was Dean recovering and getting back into the ring so important to you? Planning that moment when you finish him off once and for all for the world to see?"

"No," He shook his head for added emphasis. "I don't want that to happen."

Roman pushed, eyes scanning his face. "Then why?"

"I told you already."

"You said that it's because you still care." The Samoan's eyes narrowed. "Which I think is a bunch of shit. You're just having an attack of conscience and feel guilty for what you did so you're trying to save your ass."

Seth gave a humorless chuckle, "Then there's really no reason that we should bother continuing this conversation if you've already made up your mind. Repeating myself isn't going to change what you think and I'm tired of wasting my breath."

"Because I sat by Dean's bedside, wondering if he was ever going to wake up, if he was going to be brain damaged or paralyzed when he did and trying to figure out what the hell was going on in your mind. Why you could be so remorseless for what you did? How things had gotten this bad?" The words were sharp and jagged, edged in burning rage that made him tremble. "So I think that means that you owe it to me to answer any damn thing I ask!"

"I don't owe you the answers though. Not really." He said flatly. "The only person I owe anything to is Dean."

"He remembers now."

A rough swallow worked down his throat at having confirmation but he forced himself to speak around the lump. "I figured that much already."

"You really think he's going to bother asking the why's and how's? That he'll even give you the chance to try to clear the air?" A scoff followed that rhetorical question. "Your attempt at a good deed didn't buy you any leeway with him. He's going to be out for blood and I really don't blame him at all."

"Neither can I."

"Then why are you still standing here?" An eyebrow cocked, "Knowing that he remembers and how he's going to react, shouldn't you be turning tail and running back to Iowa now like the coward you are?"

He ignored the dig, used to the attacks on his character by now. "I know that I'm probably not going to get it but I want a chance to explain and apologize. I owe him that at least even if he punches me in the face after I say it."

"Are you willing to risk his health over it?" Roman stance was combative. "Because I doubt that a confrontation is on the acceptable list on that concussion protocol."

He deflated slightly, knowing that the other man was right about that point and having a good idea about where this was leading.

"I'm not going to stand by and let you hurt him anymore than you already have, which means that you need to be gone before Dean gets back." The older man informed him tightly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "This isn't negotiable. You're going to go get your stuff together and get a cab to the airport since he took your rental. I'll handle turning it in tomorrow."

Seth stood, feeling defeated. He wanted to refuse. To say that he wasn't going anywhere until him and Dean hashed this out. But Roman was right when he said that Dean couldn't handle a confrontation at this point in time. So he pushed it down and gave in. "I know that you don't owe me anything but can you at least text me to let me know he's safe? I know that no matter what I say, you won't believe it but I do care about that."

"Fine."

He nodded jerkily and headed up to the apartment. Once he opened the door, he paused before going inside. The air was still heavy, the lingering feel of rage and violence still swirled inside. His eyes swept around and he felt that all too familiar stab of guilt pierce through him. Because it looked like a hurricane had torn through the room.

Lamps on the ground, metal bent from the force of impact. Coffee table and stools upended. Shards of glass littering the floor. TV screen spider webbed and askew. A dark smudge on the wall where the dish strainer had been hurled at it and there was a chunk of plaster cracked in another spot where something had connected with the wall.

Judging from the height and shape, there was very little doubt that it had been a fist.

Several different emotions ran through him. Fear. Sadness. Anger. But he didn't dwell on them as he finally forced himself to move from the door and into the chaos. He couldn't. All he could now was what was best for Dean and that meant getting as far away from the dirty blonde as he could.

He quickly gathered his belongings and took one last look around. Memories of the brotherly talks, silly conversations and bonding moments that occurred over the last three weeks sliced through him. They hurt. Badly. But he pushed the ache aside and headed back out front.

Roman was waiting there, phone in his hand. "Your cab should be here soon."

"Have you heard from him?"

"No and I won't." The Samoan informed him gruffly. "He threw his phone at the TV. It's somewhere inside the house, probably broken along with all the other stuff."

"I can cover the damages…" Seth started to offer but was quickly and soundly cut off.

"That's not necessary."

The cab pulled up as he was essentially dismissed and he sighed, a curt nod serving as his goodbye to his former big brother. He tossed his bag into the backseat and climbed in, closing the door a little more firmly than needed. "McCarran airport."

* * *

Roman cleaned the apartment while he waited for it's tenant to return. It beat sitting around trying to figure this all out. Even though he'd gotten answers to his questions, it didn't clarify anything for him. It only gave him more questions. Ones he couldn't find the strength to ask because he had a feeling that the answers would only make this worse.

He grabbed a piece of paper, sitting at the breakfast bar and started making a list of all the things that were broken that would need to be replaced. The TV even though it would be argued otherwise because despite what the dirty blonde asserted, his brother loved watching every wrestling and big foot special that was released. Dishes. Lamps. A coffee table since the legs caved in when Dean kicked it over. Some paint and spackle to repair the damage to the walls.

That was all easily fixed. It was just a matter of taking Dean shopping and forcing the thrifty man to spend the money. Wouldn't even take them more than a few hours. Then his apartment would once again be the sanctuary that the dirty blonde felt it to be. It would bring back a little stability.

Which he would need to deal with the loss of Seth.

Again.

Because that was what this whole twisted situation turned into. Dean had been able to look at the younger man as his brother these past few weeks. Regained the bonds that were lost when Seth betrayed them back in June. Put his faith and trust into the architect. Allowed himself to share his fears about what this injury meant to his life and career.

Once again, Seth had betrayed him.

Lied and schemed to get what he wanted.

Going through it the first time had been horrible. The most mentally and physically painful experience of his life. But he knew that it had been worse for Dean. He didn't allow himself to trust or care easily because of past experiences. Seth's betrayal had destroyed him, reduced him to a spiraling, confused, angry mess that could barely function.

It had taken a lot of time, effort, talking and promises to even get Dean to trust him enough to let him be there for him. To continue on as the friend's and brothers they had been since the Shield formed. Get him to understand that their bond didn't disappear with their wayward former little brother's betrayal. Make him accept that even though they weren't blood, they were family and nothing could change that. Reassure him that he'd always be there for him no matter what.

Roman failed.

His first failure came when he hadn't been there to stop the curb stomp through the cinder-blocks. He failed again when he was forced to leave Dean alone and vulnerable at the hospital. Didn't matter that both times, he'd been ordered away by the authority. All that mattered was that he hadn't fought the orders and did exactly what they wanted. That left Dean to inevitably pay the price.

The authority and Seth had taken away so much from Dean already. They cut the bonds he had formed when they lured Seth to their side. Dean's safety had been threatened repeatedly by having him jumped by their minions. That already battered and scarred mind, body and soul had been shredded further with every cold, calculated word and attack Seth launched. Their latest attempt tried to take away his livelihood and even worse, his life.

This latest plot could be the final blow. The proverbial death blow. Dean's miniscule ability to trust might be finally be eviscerated. That meant that he'd lash out and push away anyone he felt too close to him. Not that it was a long list. In fact, it was list with only one name on it.

Roman swallowed as he realized that what Seth had done could end up costing him his one remaining brother. Because there was no way that Dean wouldn't blame him for this happening, for letting him down when he needed him most. He wasn't there, again, to stop it. Didn't realize what was going on and step in before the damage could be done. Even though he knew from their short conversations on the phone that the dirty blonde was keeping something from him.

He'd foolishly overlooked the things that the doctor had told him about what was needed during Dean's recovery. Didn't really think about how limited the younger man was in his day to day life because of the protocol. Figured that maybe, just maybe, one of the dirty blonde's buddies from the Indy's were taking care of him. Or that maybe his brother had charmed some nurse and had her assisting him during his time of need. Never even considered that the suspended sellout who caused this injury would have the audacity to step in and play the role of savior.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of the front door opening. His eyes darted up to the doorway, mouth pulled into a vicious scowl. Because part of him expected Seth to be the one walking through that door. To have ignored his order to leave and not look back. Attempt to stand his ground and refuse to do what was best for everyone involved because he thought he knew better.

But it wasn't Seth.

It was a tired, gaunt looking Dean who stood there, rubbing the back of his neck.

His scowl vanished, replaced with a genuine look of concern. "Hey, you alright?"

"I didn't crash his car if that's what you're asking." A brief smirk appeared on Dean's lips but it was replaced by a stoic expression. "Though he's gonna be charged for the mirror I took off and the paint that got all scratched up when I sideswiped the fence."

Roman would normally laugh at that. Shake his head with mirth. This time was different though. It was a hell of a lot more serious. That could have happened because of the other man's concussion instead of just him being petty. "You shouldn't have taken off. Not supposed to be driving in your condition."

"If I didn't, I would have killed him." A shrug followed that. "Figured I'd go with the lesser of two evils."

"You never answered my question." He tried again, pinning his younger brother with an assessing look. Hoping that he'd be able to spot any telltale signs. "Are you okay?"

"Don't know what you want me to say man."

"The truth, no matter how bad or ugly it is."

Dean shifted in his spot, those old familiar tics of agitation making their presence known. Fingers drumming in a frantic rhythm against his collarbone. "I got played. Simple as that. Nothing new there when it comes to that lying scumbag."

"You couldn't help it because you didn't remember." Roman stated firmly, hoping that it would sink into the other's man head. "Seth took advantage of that, like the weasel that he is. Don't blame yourself for what he did."

"I should've known though." The words were bitter. "He was acting weird. Not using his phone or checking his damn twitter. Being all cautious when we had to go out for appointments. Acting evasive if I said something about the shield or asked something about the past few months."

"You didn't have any reason to suspect that he wasn't genuine."

Blue eyes narrowed, "I think he was though. Even now, I still think that he was actually concerned, that he actually wanted to try to help me and that he was sorry for what he did."

Roman was caught off guard by that, "You do?"

"That's what got me pissed off because I should know better!" The dirty blonde paced, hands slapping his thighs. "I mean, how could I still think that when the last few months tell me that there's no way it could be true?"

"He said that there was no ulterior motive for this." He ventured cautiously, not wanting to get his head ripped off. "That he regretted what he did and was trying to make up for it. All he wanted was to make sure that you recovered fully."

"But that's gotta be a lie, more bullshit to get into my head and fuck me over." A questioning gaze landed as he came to a stop. "Right?"

It was be so easy to agree with Dean's assumption. To ignore what was said and just base the decision on the actions of the last three months. But he couldn't. Because there was a part of him that was wondering if maybe, just maybe, their former little brother was telling the truth this time.

"I don't know." Roman admitted. "I just don't know."


	10. Fragments

_**Stab the body and it heals, but injure the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime- Mineko Iwasaki**_

* * *

 _September 20, 2014 - Davenport Iowa 8:00am_

Seth groaned as the all too familiar sound of his alarm clock, which he had done battle with earlier and set for a later time, once again pulled him from his fitful slumber. He really didn't want to get up but he stretched reluctantly, his body protesting the movement. On instinct, his hand reached beside, to the spot that his prized pooch Kevin usually resided. It was empty, the spot cool to the touch. The pup had probably gotten thirsty or was sick of waiting for his master to get his lazy ass out of bed.

His eyes struggled to adjust to the sunlight that streamed into his bedroom before they gave up the fight and closed again. This was one of those rare days that he'd rather just stay in bed and do nothing. Ignore everything going on around him and just lose himself in countless hours of Madden and music. Revel in the mundane activities of a normal, every day life and not think about the screwed up reality of his existence.

It had been hard falling back into his old routine after three weeks away from it. He'd been back home for days now and he still hadn't managed to fall back into schedule. Guess his body had enjoyed it's brief respite a little too much. Didn't want to obey his orders and go about business as usual. Not that his mind was too eager to fall back into it's previous track either.

That was odd to say the least. He should be dying to go to cross fit. Yearning to feel the burn of an intense session and the satisfaction that came along with completing it. Thinking about what gear he's going to bring on the road. Getting ready to pack his bags and download his boarding pass, looking forward to resuming the future he worked so hard to obtain.

But he didn't feel any of that.

Uncertainty is the only way he can describe what's going on with him.

Even though his suspension was officially up as of today, he wasn't scheduled to return until the RAW after Night of Champions. Guess they figured that they'd know what to do with him by then. If Dean was medically cleared, which was probably a long shot, then they'd probably resume their feud. If not then they'd set up a new feud for him, most likely with Roman. Neither of those options did much to peak his excitement or enthrall him.

Roman was pissed over the situation that transpired and rightfully so but he also thought there was more than meets the eyes with his attempt to help Dean recover which there wasn't. That meant if they were forced into a feud right now, it wouldn't be just strictly business. It would definitely be ugly and personal. The big brother of the Shield would be looking to exact a little retribution for what he had done to Dean. His punches would be harder, his moves stiffer and his comments more cutting.

What Seth had done had been stupid, reckless and never should have happened. There was no denying or arguing that fact. It could have cost Dean his mobility or his life. There was no problem with the Samoan man waiting to exact some punishment for those horrendous actions. But he didn't deserve to be punished for trying the only thing he could do to try to make up for it.

Seth really didn't want to resume his feud with Dean either though. The last three weeks had reminded him of what he was missing. That unwavering trust. The strong bonds of brotherhood. A sense of purpose and a rightness that he didn't feel when he was around the other members of the authority.

Of course all of that was lost now that Dean had regained his memory.

For the dirty blonde, them stepping in the ring together again would be his dream come true. A chance to deliver some much deserved justice for the things that had been said and done to him. He wouldn't let up until he inflicted as much pain and suffering on Seth as he could possibly could. Wouldn't stop until he was satisfied that the architect had learned his lesson and paid for sins. That was fine because if anyone deserved a chance to deliver payback, it was Dean.

But for Seth, he didn't want to face his former brother anymore. Didn't want to see that hurt and hatred that those blue eyes could never hide. Dreaded seeing that look of contempt and disappointment in the curve of the eccentric man's mouth. Hated that after everything they had been through that Dean would think that there was something more sinister to his attempt at atonement than there was. That he would be back to being nothing more than someone that the self-professed lunatic would want to destroy.

Before the curb stomp through the cinderblocks, it had bothered him but it was nothing that he couldn't ignore. It had gotten easier every time he stood across the ring from his former brother. The key was to pretend that it didn't matter. Act like they were never anything more than business partners, had never been friends or brothers. Forget that they spent years hanging out and talking about everything they hoped to accomplish in this industry.

Now, he wasn't so sure that he could stand in the ring across from Dean and play the part of the sellout. Act like being surrounded by the authority was what he wanted and the best thing that had ever happened to him. Gloat about the things he had done in the name of getting to the top. Say that this was his dream come true and the Shield had been nothing but a stepping stone. Pretend it wasn't ripping his soul from his body every time he had to tell Dean that he was nothing but a lunatic.

He sighed, pushing his head further into the pillows.

The ping of his phone forced a groan from him but he rolled over and grabbed it from his nightstand. A text message from Triple H awaited him, which elicited another groan from his mouth. He really didn't feel like having to play corporate golden boy right now or tell the older man whatever he wanted to hear. But he had a job to consider and since that was all he had left, there really was no choice. Might as well see what the soulless bastard had to say and just do whatever he had to in order to get rid of him quickly.

 _ **"Sorry man, know you were probably looking forward to having one more day to relax but it looks like we're going to need you tomorrow at the show after all. Hasn't been announced yet but we just got word that Reigns is undergoing emergency surgery."**_

What the hell? He didn't have time to dwell on that right this second because there was another message under it.

 _ **"No need to book a flight. We'll send the jet."**_

He re-read those messages several times, feeling a prickle of unease along his spine. There was no way that he couldn't respond. So he typed out a deliberately casual, "No problem, I'll be ready. What happened to Reigns?"

It felt like he had been waiting forever before his phone finally pinged.

 _ **"Incarcerated Hernia."**_

Relief swept through Seth at that. While it sucked for Roman to be injured, it was better than the alternatives that had run through his mind. He'd been worried that the authority had enough of the big dog and put some of their much discussed plans into action. Like Randy had gotten a little too vicious in a match or attacked him after one. Triple H decided to use his sledgehammer. Kane repeated the cinderblock scenario with Roman.

His teeth raked pensively over his lower lip. He wondered if anyone had told Dean about what was going on with Roman. That was something he definitely needed to know. It wouldn't be good if he didn't find out until after it happened. It was probably a moot point to worry about, most likely one of the twins probably called him already.

But what if they didn't? What if they were so distracted with calling the rest of their family that they forgot to ring the eccentric man? Or that they assumed that he'd already been told? Figured that Roman had managed to tell him before being wheeled into the operating room? What if they left a voicemail or sent a text and Dean, being Dean, didn't bother to check his phone until tomorrow?

Why risk it?

It wouldn't be right for Dean to find out through a company email or get a text from a random co-worker. He grabbed his phone and went into his contacts. Locating the dirty blonde's number, he took a deep breath and pushed the phone icon. Instead of being greeted by a ring and that all too familiar gravel voice, he received a strange computerized one instead.

 _"The number that you have reached is no longer in service."_

Disconnecting the call, he frowned down at the device. That was weird. Yeah, Dean had changed his number after the shield split but he'd gotten the number when he had been staying there. He vaguely remembered putting the current number in the phone one morning after he claimed that his new phone hadn't transferred the numbers over. Maybe he forgot to push save or typed it in wrong?

Could the phone be acting up? Wouldn't be the first time and probably not the last either. It was frustrating as hell that even after all these years that cell phones still experienced issues. You'd think they'd have them all ironed out by now. But then again, they wouldn't have an excuse to jack up prices when they released the latest model phone that promised it was superior to the last.

He decided to try again, expecting to hear it ring this time.

 _"The number that you have reached is no longer in service."_

A frustrated groan tumbled from his mouth as he remembered Roman saying that Dean had broken his phone when he trashed his apartment. The eccentric man probably didn't get a new phone yet or if he did, decided to get a new number to go along with it. Made things slightly more difficult for him to reach out and break the news. Or subtly try to check up on him like he had been planning to do.

Maybe there was a way he could check up without having go through the former United States Champion?

He pulled up his thread with Triple H, "So I guess that means Reigns is out of our hair for a while. Any word on Ambrose?"

His heart was hammering in his chest as he waited for a response. Nerves were stretched so tightly that when the phone pinged a couple of minutes later, he almost dropped the damn thing. It took some quick reflexes on his part to keep his phone from having a tragic one on one match with the floor. He let out a deep breath and went back into the thread, hoping that there'd be some good news.

 _ **"Lunatic's still M.I.A, don't think we'll ever see him again."**_

Damn it, that wasn't what he wanted to hear.

Because if Dean had been cleared by the Neurologist then he would have contacted the company two minutes after it happened.

The eccentric man would have demanded to be booked as soon as possible. No way in hell would he have sat back and bided his time. Wrestling was his passion, was his life. If the office tried to hold off or push back his return, he'd have fought them tooth and nail or forced their hand by showing up and refusing to leave. That was just the way that Dean was and always would be.

With a heavy sigh, he finally pulled himself out of bed now that he was resigned to it being another crappy day. Poor Kevin was probably starving by now. He hadn't intended to make the poor pooch wait so long enough. To make up for it, he'd cook his companion his own breakfast of eggs.

* * *

 _Nashville Tennessee - 8:00am_

Dean paced the length of the waiting room once again, as he had been doing since his brother had been rushed through the emergency surgery doors an hour ago. His hand slapped at his thighs in agitation with every pass. This was not how he pictured this situation going when he showed up to surprise Roman on Friday. It was supposed to be just a fun hang out session with his brother to help him decompress before his big match with the viper on Sunday. A way for the big dog to let go of some of the tension that he'd been holding onto for too long.

Instead it ended up with him waking up to a situation that he realized wasn't good and breaking every traffic law ever written to get Roman to the hospital before whatever the hell that giant lump on his stomach was exploded. Now, here he was two hours later, still in the damn waiting room and no sign of a damn doctor to tell him what was going on. Being patient was not a virtue he possessed. Part of him just wanted to go up to the operating room and force them to answer his question. But he couldn't because they'd kick him out of the hospital. That was why he kept pacing because he could not handle this if he was forced to be idle.

He pivoted to resume his path but it was unceremoniously blocked.

Jimmy grabbed him by the shoulders and sighed heavily, "Uce, you got to stop the pacing before you wear a path through the tile or it catches on fire. Don't want them to add the damage to Rome's bill."

Blue eyes rolled and he shook free of the grasp, opting to flop down in a chair with a loud, disgruntled huff. From the nervous looks they were casting him, whatever expression on his face wasn't a good one. His lips separated in a teeth baring grin that screamed nothing but malice.

"See what you did?" Jey clucked his tongue at his twin. "Now little uce is over there plotting to kill your ass."

"He ain't plotting to kill me…"

"Fork through the carotid artery then twist." Dean intone flatly, arms crossed over his chest and his leg jiggling rapidly. "Only takes about four minutes."

Jimmy blinked, face paling. He shook his head and swallowed thickly, obviously a little disconcerted by what he just heard. "Well…damn."

"Told ya!" Jey somehow managed to look both proud of himself for being right and uneasy from what he'd just heard.

"You're the one who told me to get him to stop pacing!" The elder twin snapped. "I had no problem leaving him alone."

"You listened to me."

Dean rolled his eyes again, tuning out their bickering. He liked the twins. Really, he did. They were like the cousins he never had. But in that moment, they were getting on his last frayed nerve. It was almost to the point that he could murder them both, dispose of the bodies in the morgue and not give a fuck.

He had enough time to accomplish it since Roman's parents were still en-route from Florida.

An unfamiliar ringing from his pocket distracted his thought process. His expression clouded with confusion because it wasn't his phone that it was coming from. The phone he currently owned was back in the hotel room, forgotten in his haste to get the older man to the hospital. It had to be Roman's. A nurse had given him the few personal belongings that Roman had on him and he'd shoved the small bag in the pocket of his hoodie.

Pulling the bag out, he opened it and looked curiously at the phone. Dolph Ziggler's name was showing on the display and he frowned at that because it wasn't something that just happened. Begged the question of what could the show-off want with Roman? There was only one way to find out. He took the phone out and pushed the green button, "Yeah?"

"Uh, Roman?"

No one beside the office knew what was going on and he sure as hell wasn't going to tell Dolph of all people the truth. He shifted in the seat, tapping his fingers against the arm of the uncomfortable chair. "He's busy right now."

There was silence for a second before the peroxide blonde spoke again, his voice heavy with surprise. "Dean?"

"Yup."

"Hey man, how you doing?" The older man sounded genuinely interested in his answer to that query.

He grimaced at that because his first instinct was to snap something less than pleasant at the person on the other end of the call but he figured he'd play this out, see what the other man was after. "Still kicking, obviously."

There was a bemused chuckle, "Glad to hear it man. A lot of people were worried after what happened."

Enough of that phony sentiment. Time to get to the important shit. "What did you need Ro for?"

"I've been keeping him up to date on the Rollins situation when I hear something. My sources called and told me that they've bumped his return up from Raw to the PPV tomorrow instead. Just wanted to give him the heads up because that can't mean anything good for him. Probably going to have him interfere in his match with Randy."

A growl escaped his mouth before he could bite it back, startling both Ziggler and the twins, who were once again looking at him like he was crazy. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It didn't make him feel any calmer but he figured that he could sound it, especially since he knew for a fact that there wasn't going to be a match for that son of a bitch to interfere in anymore. "That so?"

"Don't know for sure but I figure that's the most obvious tactic they'd take."

"Thanks for the head's up." His voice sounded like he'd been gargling broken glass.

"No problem man." Dolph sounded almost sincere. "I hear anything else, I'll call back."

"Yup." He hung up before the show-off could say anything else, his blood boiling and his hands tightening in rage.

Fingers wrapped around his wrist, "Drop it man, phones ain't supposed to make those sounds."

Dean looked up at Jimmy then down at his clenched fist. Something inside it was making a cracking noise. He released his grip and groaned as he seen the now spider webbed screen staring back at him. Guess he owed Ro a new phone. "Fuck."

"See, I warned you that something wasn't right while he was talking." Jey tsk'd at his older brother. "You didn't want to listen to me and waited until it was too late."

Before Jimmy could respond, Dean leaned forward so he could see the other man and pinned the motor-mouth with a murderous glare. "You're getting a fork to the jugular if you don't pipe down."

"Damn man!" The younger man shook his head. "Keep that shit up and I'm gonna tell uce that you ain't allowed near silverware anymore."

"Oh please," A lazy wave of dismissal followed that. "Like I haven't been carrying my own for years."

Jimmy stepped away from him, giving him a worried side-eye and holding his hands up in surrender. "How do you get it through…no, you know what? I don't want to know."

"Didn't think so." He jumped to his feet and resumed the pacing that he'd been so rudely interrupted from earlier.

His mind shifted from worrying about Roman to thinking about the sellout he used to call his brother. Sure, the bastard had sounded sincere and contrite about the things he had done when he had taken advantage of his memory loss but this latest move proved that it was nothing but bullshit. That the piece of scum had been doing his best to play him so that the weasel could obtain whatever endgame that the authority had in mind. He had almost believed it because he missed his little brother. Those few weeks they spent together had only made it hurt more once he remembered the truth, torn open those three month old scabs and made them raw once again.

There was no way he was going to let the bastard get away with this.

Not this time.

Dean was going to make sure that whatever Seth and the Authority had planned for Night of Champions didn't come to fruition.


	11. Shards

_**Betrayal is never easy to handle and there is no right way to accept it - Christine Feehan**_

* * *

 _September 21, 2014 - 5:30pm - Nashville General_

Roman woke up slowly, mind hazy and feeling like he'd gotten run over by a Mack truck. He went to stretch but aborted it quickly, hissing as a searing pain engulfed his entire abdomen. Something soft covered the aching area and on instinct, he slowly circled his arms around it, curling protectively into it. That definitely helped a little but he still felt like death warmed over. Must have had one hell of a run in with a chair or someone's foot during his match.

But he couldn't remember any shots that were stiff enough for him to feel like this.

Unless him and Dean had gone to a bar and gotten into a brawl.

"That's good sweetheart." A comforting voice encouraged. "I know it hurts. Just move slowly and hold that pillow to your stomach."

His eyes opened and landed on the face in front of his, his expression twisting in confusion. What the hell? There was no way what he thought he heard and what he believed he was seeing was real. "Mom?"

"It's me baby." Her hand stroked his hair away from his forehead. "When you're recovered, you owe me and your father an apology for almost scaring us to death."

Everything around him came into focus and he realized that he was in a hospital room, not the hotel room where he'd been hanging out with Dean a little while ago. How the hell had he gotten there? "What happened?"

"They said you might be a little fuzzy when you came to." She gave a good natured but tight smile. "You, my son, had a very serious hernia that you apparently ignored for a while."

A sheepish look passed over his face. He hadn't even realized that that thing was hernia, let alone that it was something to be concerned about. Figured it was just one of the many lumps and bumps that came along with his job. "I didn't know what it was or that it was something serious enough that I had to worry about it."

"Well thankfully, Dean was sharing the hotel room with you and he has common sense. He woke up to find you passed out on the floor, covered in sweat with a high fever and realized that that the lump the size of a baseball protruding from your abdomen was something to be worried about. Managed to get you here before things got worse and the doctors removed it." A shaky exhale followed that. "If he didn't wake up when he did or notice…"

As his mother explained, he could recall brief snippets of the scene she described. They were hazy, vague but he could vividly remember the excruciating pain that had wracked his body. Damn, he was really lucky that Dean had surprised him this weekend. If he hadn't been there, there was no telling what could have happened. "I guess I owe him big time for this."

His mother nodded her agreement of that statement. "That we do."

He'd make sure to get his brother a case of his favorite beer and a few bottles of Jack as a thank you. That was probably the most the other man would allow him to do. Hell, knowing Dean, he might not even accept it if he knows it's a thank you gift. The dirty blonde hated when people made a fuss over him. Maybe he could pick up the eccentric man's bar tab the next time they closed down a bar together while they were on the road-

It hit him suddenly and he tried to slowly struggle into a sitting position, his heart hammering nervously in his chest. "The pay-per-view…"

"Your father already called and told them what's going on."

"Where is he?"

"Dad's getting something to eat down in the cafeteria, everyone else is back at the hotel right now. Well except the twins who headed to the arena." She patted his forearm gently, her expression relieved. "The rest of us are working in shifts. Didn't want you to be overwhelmed or your daughter seeing you until you were feeling a little better. It'll be easier for her to deal with it that way."

"Smart." He shifted, clutching the pillow tightly to his abdomen. "Plus, she'll love getting to spend time with Dean. Always says his story voices are way better than mine."

His mother blinked, "Honey, Dean's not back at the hotel."

"Damn, he's still here?" He shook his head. That was just like the stubborn man. "Send him in. I need to show him I'm alright so he'll go back to the hotel and finally get some rest."

"I made him leave last night." She smiled. "He tried to tell me he was fine but I know that he's still recovering himself and told him that I wasn't taking no for an answer. Of course, he was right back here this morning as soon as visiting hours allowed."

"Sounds about right." A tired chuckle escaped his mouth. "Someone better get him before he manages to hit on every female in this hospital and we end up getting chased out of here by a mob of angry husbands."

"No worries, he was getting anxious just sitting around so he decided to go with Jimmy and Jey to the arena."

Little alarm bells started going off in his head. "He did what now?"

"Oh honey, calm down." She tutted affectionately. "I know you're worried that he's still recovering and rightfully so but he's a grown man. He can go hang out with the twins and watch the show if he wants."

His mother had long since fallen under the spell of Dean's innate ability to charm women into thinking that what he wanted them to. He had her wrapped around his little finger the second he flashed her those dimples and started calling her Mama Reigns. Because of that, she was completely blind to that fact that there was no way in hell that he'd just sit backstage and watch. Especially when going to the arena wasn't in his original plans. That if he suddenly changed his mind and decided to go to the show, there was something else going on.

But what changed his mind?

He needed to get to the bottom of this. Now. That way, he had enough time to try to put a stop to whether the dirty blonde was planning. "Mom, is my phone here?"

"No, why?"

Damn it. Not what he wanted to hear. Lying to his mother was something he hated to do but in was a necessary in this case. The truth would not get him anywhere. He sighed, putting on his best pout. "I've probably got a mailbox full of messages from co-workers. I want to let them know that I'm alright and wish them luck in their matches tonight. Maybe update my twitter while I'm at it, let the fans know that the big dog is on the mend."

"I think Dean or one of the twins had it." She reached into her bag and pulled out the IPAD he had bought her for Christmas. "You can use that if you want but don't wear yourself out. You need to take it easy."

"Promise."

She seemed appeased by that and stood. "I'm going to go find your dad and let him know you're awake so you can have privacy."

He waited until she was out the door and logged into his Skype account. He pressed the contact info for Jimmy, intending to get to the bottom of things. It went unanswered. Got the same result when he tried Jey's phone. Dean's didn't even connect when he tried it which meant that it was either turned off or dead. That wasn't exactly a surprise since the younger man wasn't good about remembering to charge or turn it on.

That left him one option, the person who always knew the backstage happenings. He hit the contact information for Dolph and waited, hoping that the show-off would pick up.

"Roman!" Dolph's grin greeted him. "Heard about what happened! How you feeling man?"

"Hurts like hell but I'm on the mend." A ghost of his usual grin clung to his lips. "Of course it sucks that this happened now. Was looking forward to slaying the viper but what can you do?"

"I called you yesterday and Dean answered. Never mentioned what was going on." The blonde shook his head. "Just said you were busy and couldn't talk."

Typical Dean behavior but there was something else to discuss. "What were calling about?"

"Oh!" The show-off rolled his eyes. "Well, my source told me that they were bringing Rollins back a day early. I figured that it had something to do with your match with Randy but they probably knew by then that you were off the show. Guess they needed him to kill time so he'll probably be cutting a promo."

Roman had to fight to keep what he was feeling off his face. "You happen to mention this to Dean?"

"Yeah."

Everything clicked into place. That was why Dean suddenly changed his plans and tagged along with Jimmy and Jey. A chance for revenge was something he wouldn't pass up and his cousin's wouldn't try to stop him. It also explained why those fools were ignoring his calls. They knew that he'd chew their asses out for this shit.

"Listen man, do me a favor?" He stared as hard as he could into the show-off's eyes, hoping to relay exactly how urgent this was. "When you see them, I need you to tell Jimmy or Jey to Skype me. As soon as possible. It's important."

"Will do." Dolph promised. "I got to get going. Got an segment to tape then I'll track them down and let them know."

"Thanks man, good luck." The screen went back to the menu and he set the IPAD down.

This was not good.

* * *

 _8:00pm - Night of Champions_

The show was just getting started, pyro exploding. Seth stood behind the curtain, waiting for his cue to go out there. His stomach was in knots, nerves threatening to jump out of his skin. Not in a good way though. He was more worried about the reaction from the crowd and whether or not he could ignore it, if he could keep his face from showing what he was feeling when they hurled insults at him.

There was no chance they wouldn't. After what he'd done to Dean the last time he was on TV, it was going to be brutal. But that wasn't enough for Triple H and Stephanie. Not at all. They wanted to make the most of his return, really amp up the shock value and remind the audience of what he was capable of.

They would definitely get that with what he'd been told to go out there and say.

He hoped that security could hold back the angry fans who wanted his head.

Vaguely, he could hear the commentators informing the viewing public about Roman's surgery. They must have been showing it on the screens in the arena too because the crowd was reacting in time with it. Great. Them already being pissed off pretty assured him that he was going to get eaten alive. He'd just have to keep his guard up, eyes open and make sure that he moved fast enough to avoid anything that may be thrown at him.

"Seth, you're on." Michael Hayes informed him.

Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and forced that familiar arrogant sneer to form. The boo's were deafening as his music hit and he stepped through the curtain. Curses showered him as he made his way down the ramp. Someone flicked water on him as he passed them on his way to the stairs. He managed to ignore them as he climbed into the ring and walked over to the corner, requesting a microphone.

The fans were really enjoying the asshole chant that rained down on him. Instead of getting weaker, it was getting stronger. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to maintain the smug twist to his lips. But it was hard. All he wanted to do was throw the mic down and hide in back.

That wasn't an option.

He had a job to do.

Clearing his throat into the microphone, he looked directly into the camera and spit his opening line as venomously as he could. "Good to see you missed me while I was unfairly suspended."

The response to that was a symphony of unbridled hatred.

"Yeah," He crowed outwardly, the picture perfect scumbag, even though his was cringing internally at what he was about to say, "You should be booing the fact that you were deprived of the future of this company for the last month. It wasn't fair to suspend me for finally ridding the WWE universe of that lunatic."

It was riotous inside the arena.

Seth just managed to dodge the cup that came hurtling toward him. He shook it off and forced himself to continue. To get through this before he lost his composure. "Dean Ambrose is done. I caved in his head on a pile of cinderblocks and he'll never get in my way of fulfilling my destiny ever again."

"It's his fault that he's somewhere with a scrambled brain." He swallowed thickly, wishing he could stop. "All he had to do was let it go and none of this would have happened. Accepted the fact that I destroyed the Shield. But no. He had to keep coming, thinking he was indestructible. I guess now he knows that he's not."

The crowd was turning hostile. Things were being thrown regularly toward the ring. Security was closing ranks around the barricades as people rushed toward them. Yet he couldn't leave. Not only was he only half way through the promo but he had to kill time to make up for the match that was lost.

"Enough about someone who no longer matters, who never really did." His voice was starting to shake. "And onto something that does. The only thing that has ever mattered to me."

He had to twist away from another projectile.

"My future."

God, they were loud.

Obscenities and death threats being shouted at him.

"In case anyone had forgotten, I'm still Mister Money in the Bank." He paused, needing to collect himself. "Which means that without Ambrose standing in my way, I'm free to cash in whenever I want."

The boo that followed that almost shook the building.

"Maybe it'll be tonight. Might be tomorrow." He pondered, this part significantly easier to get through. "But it will happen. When it does, I will be your new WWE Champion."

He preened as they jeered that.

Something hit him from the side, barreling into him and knocking him to the canvas. He grimaced, struggling to breathe. Fists struck him, hard and heavy, intent on inflicting as much damage as they could. He put his arms up in an attempt to block the flurry of blows but it didn't stop his attacker. Those fists still battered him without hesitation, knuckles meeting his forearms.

Why wasn't security putting a stop to this?

They should have intervened by now.

"Stop!" Stephanie's strident suddenly voice rang out. "Stop this right now!"

That didn't help though.

The fists didn't slow down in the slightest.

"I mean it!" She shrieked, voice sounding much closer. "Let him up!"

Suddenly the fists stopped but before he could uncurl his position or open his eyes, hands closed over his ankles and roughly dragged him to the edge of the ring. He felt as his arms were twisted up between the second and third rope, trapping him there. Trying to get them free only made it more painful.

"Don't do it!" The billion dollar princess's voice exclaimed. "Ambrose! Don't do it."

Seth's eyes flew open at that and he stared up in horrified fascination.

Dean stood on the floor, towering over his prone form, dressed as a security guard. There was a cinderblock clutched tightly in his hands. His chest rose and fell rapidly, hair wild and eyes that were ice cold. He didn't look the least bit concerned about Stephanie's presence or the security guards that were flanking her. A smirk twisted his lips and his eyebrows rose.

"I mean it Ambrose." She informed him coldly. "If you do that then you'll be leaving me no choice."

"Oooowwww." Blue eyes rolled and the cinderblock rose in the air. It didn't take a genius to figure out what he planned to do and he braced himself for the inevitable impact. "I'm so scared."

The security guards were slowly creeping closer.

But he knew, they wouldn't make it there in time.

"Do it." Seth murmured so that only they could hear it, hoping that his former brother could read the sincerity in the words. It was the perfect payback for what he'd done. "I deserve it."

"Shut up." The hiss was savage.

That momentary distraction cost Dean. Security rushed in and tackled him, the cinderblock narrowly avoiding Seth as it crashed to the ground in scrum. They quickly grabbed the fighting lunatic by his torso and his legs. Plastic zip ties came out and wrapped around his wrists, restraining him. Then they carried him off, ignoring his cursing, kicking and promising all the guards a horrible death the entire way.

Seth's arms were freed from the ropes and he sat up, his entire body shaking.

"Are you alright?" Stephanie inquired quietly, hand on his shoulder.

He wasn't naïve enough to believe that she was concerned about his well-being. She wanted to know if he could still do the second part of the authorities plan. A part of him really wanted to lie and say that he was injured. To be put on a plane and sent home for a week so he didn't have to deal with this. But instead, he just nodded and slowly got out of the ring.

* * *

Jimmy turned his attention away from the monitor in the dressing room and looked at his twin, shaking his head. "I need to stop listening to you man. It always blows up in my damn face."

"You ain't really trying to blame me for this, are you?" Jey huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I didn't do a damn thing."

"You're the one who talked me into letting little Uce come with us even though we knew when the big dog woke up that he's be pissed off!" He stared at his brother in disbelief, wondering if his parents had dropped his younger brother on his head. "Said he was just planning on hanging out backstage, catching up with some people and watching the action."

"Cause that's what he told me."

He face palmed, "You actually believed him?"

"Well yeah." Jey shrugged. "Who knew that the traitor was going to be here?"

"Dean knew." Jimmy said slowly. "Obviously."

Brown eyes lit up as the pieces finally clicked into place. "Oh damn, think that's why he broke Uce's phone after that call yesterday?"

"Roman better kill you first." The older twin sighed.

"He's not gonna kill us." Jey waved a hand in dismissal. "Big Uce knows little Uce gets."

"Whatever man." Jimmy figured that there was no point in further talking about this. But he knew that Roman was gonna have their heads. "We need to get out to the curtain cause our match is gonna be starting soon."


	12. Surprise

**Author's Note: Long time, no update. Sorry about that. Real life got a little busy, work was crazy. Plus I went through a couple of versions of this chapter and wasn't happy with most of them so there was a lot of rewriting. Still don't love it but it definitely works much better. Hope you enjoy this and Extreme Rules tonight!**

* * *

 _ **"It was a mistake," you said. But the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you." ― David Levithan**_

* * *

 _September 21, 2014 11:35pm- Bridgestone Arena_

Seth was one of the last superstars out of the arena after the show. It had turned out to be a crappy night. Between enduring the surprise attack from Dean, Cena thwarting his attempt to cash in his briefcase and the debacle that was the Authority explosion once their plans were ruined, his night had sucked. After being dismissed, he took his time showering and getting dressed.

Mostly because he wanted to avoid anymore encounters with the Authority. He could not sit through anymore of Triple H's insufferable ego, Stephanie's shrill outrage, Kane's mocking comments or Randy's pointed jabs at his ability to get things done. Every condescending remark made him question even more the choices he made. Part of him longed to tell them all exactly what he was thinking. But he'd be giving up guaranteed success for something that no longer was available to him.

So he kept his thoughts and opinions to himself, pretended to care about their ideas and seldom given praise.

A sentence of misery was the perfect punishment for the crimes he'd committed against the men he looked at as brothers.

Some fans were still clustered around outside, hoping to catch an autograph from whatever stragglers remained. He wasn't in the mindset to deal with any of that tonight though. His mood had long since soured. Pulling on his glasses, he made sure he had put his hood up before he headed out into the night, covering his head and focused all his attention on wheeling his suitcases. Even in his quasi-disguise, they still recognized him and clamored for attention.

Several called his name. Hopeful that he really wasn't the bad guy he presented himself to be on their television screens every week. That there was some part of him that remained the affable guy he'd been in the shield. Most just called him names. A lot of those names were far more vicious and malicious than the usual traitor or sell-out.

That onslaught of hatred made him straighten up and his shoulders stiffened defensively. He quickened his pace with eyes firmly locked on his rental car just a few feet away. It was a beacon of safety in his extremely volatile world. His guard could finally come down when he was locked inside and on the road again. Lose himself in music and leave tonight in the rearview.

Make him forget, for a little while at least, that he was the most hated man in the WWE.

Allow him to ignore the little voice in his head that told him that those people were right to hate him.

He quickly opened his trunk and threw his bags inside, almost slamming the trunk down when he was done. The strides that took him to the drivers side were hurried, almost anxious as the voices of those fans who remained grew louder with every curse lobbed at him. His hand shook slightly as he opened the door, scrambled inside and slammed it shut behind him then thrust the key into the ignition. As soon as the engine turned, the radio sprang to life and drowned out the remnants of the voices outside. Throwing the car into reverse, his eyes went to the rearview mirror and he froze.

Because it didn't show what he expected it to show.

Instead of nothing but the scenery outside his back window that he was anticipating was a sight that he hadn't been.

Sprawled out across the backseat, as if it was perfectly normal, was Dean. He swallowed thickly, eyes locked on the reflection in the mirror, wondering if this was a hallucination. Not that he'd admit it but several times since the Shield split, he'd visualized his former brothers in the car with him as he traveled to the next town. Guess it was his way of seeking comfort in the chaos of life in the authority. This didn't feel like one of those times though and he knew that there was only one way to find out for sure.

Steeling himself, he took a deep breath. "W-w-what are you doing here?"

"Don't worry about that." Well unless he was actually losing his mind, his mirages didn't usually speak. That meant that Dean was really there, in his car, when he had no business of being there. To make matters worse, there was an edge of something unidentifiable in that graveled tone that sent a chill down his spine. "Just act like everything's normal and drive."

"Where should I go?"

A sneer twisted the dirty blonde's lips, "When you pull outta the lot, take a right and head back toward the hospital."

He licked his own lips nervously and nodded, backing out of his spot and pulling out of the parking lot with the aid of the police holding back the remnants of the crowd. A sigh of relief left him because obviously, the fans were out of the equation now and it seemed like the eccentric dirty blonde was just using him as a ride back to see Roman, but his eyes returned to the mirror. "Then what?"

"You hit up the first drive-thru you see."

"Huh?" He blinked, caught off guard by that request, as he steered the car into the slight cluster of traffic going the way he was instructed to and had to push the brakes before he ran into the back of the car in front of him. His eyes drifted to the mirror again as he waited for the light to change, catching the blue orbs framed in it. "A drive-thru?"

"You know, those places that you drive into, order food at a speaker then pick it up at the window."

"I know what they are smart ass but-"

"Listen," The tone was tinged with annoyance as was the expression on the other man's face. "I had to avoid backstage and most importantly catering, just so no one would know that I was at the arena and rat me out to anyone in the Authority. Because of that, I'm fucking starving and if I don't get something to eat soon, I won't be held responsible for what could happen. So spare me your lecture on how unhealthy that shit is."

"Yeah, ok, but I don't remember passing any drive-thru's on my way to the arena." His thumbs tapped impatiently on the steering wheel as he slowly made his way in the post show traffic. "I mean there were tons of restaurants and bars…"

"Then stop at a fucking restaurant and I'll get take out." There was a disgruntled huff that followed the irritated snap. "I don't know why you always gotta be such a fucking princess about things."

"I'm not being a princess!"

"If the crown fits…"

"Ha, shows how much you know! Princesses don't wear crowns." He smugly cut the other man off, smirking in triumph as he pulled into the parking lot of the first bar and grill he came upon. Turning, he offered his former brother a superior smirk. "They usually wear tiara's!"

"Yeah bro, you're know not really helping your case by saying shit like that or by pitching a bitch-fit about it." The dirty blonde rolled his eyes. "If anything, you're proving my point and making me wonder why the hell you know that shit."

Seth grit his teeth, "You know what? I find it really funny that you seem to think that I won't leave your ass at the restaurant when I absolutely will."

"Nope, you won't."

Dean sounded really confident about that. Way too confident. That made him extremely anxious. There had only been a couple of times where the other man had been so sure of what he said and that hadn't ever worked out well for him. Like that time they were on the road and he almost ended up spending a night in jail…

He shook that thought off and turned to stare at his former friend. The older man looked just as confident as he sounded and he released a shaky breath, steeling himself. "Why won't I?"

An all too familiar grin tugged at his lips and those eyes flashed triumphantly which immediately confirmed that Seth had every reason to be worried. A square black object materialized before his eyes and he felt his stomach sink as it disappeared back into the pocket of the other man's hoodie. "Cause you know I ain't got a problem handing all your cash over to the first homeless guy I see then paying for everyone in the restaurant's dinner and drinks with your card."

Seth pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head slightly as he turned away from his former Shield brethren and looked out at the parking lot instead. Not that there was anything to see. It was just a trick he employed to try to calm down and not give the infuriating dirty blonde the satisfaction of knowing exactly how much he'd gotten to him with this latest stunt. "You stole my wallet?"

"When you say it like that, it makes me sound bad." Dean's words didn't reflect anger at that. In fact, it sounded like he was completely at ease with what he'd done. "I prefer to think of it as ensuring your cooperation."

"But how-when…"

There was a chuckle, "You know I ain't gonna answer that."

Seth sighed heavily and turned his focus back toward the man in the backseat, frown on his lips and brown eyes narrowed. "How could I not have noticed?"

"Let's put it this way, a fucking toddler could've taken the damn thing. It wasn't exactly like lifting it from Fort Knox." The eccentric former member of the Shield informed him gruffly and clucked his tongue sardonically. "Seriously man, you're a pick-pocket's wet dream. Might want to consider putting your stuff someplace safer cause the next pick pocket ain't gonna hand it back over after."

"Go get your damn food." His hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles going white from the grip. "Then I can drop you off at the damn hospital and get on the road, forget this night from hell ever happened."

That smug, infuriating smirk reappeared. "Now, why would you be dropping me off at the hospital?"

"Because Roman's there?"

"Ha," That mocking chuckle was like nails on a chalk board, "In case you haven't noticed, it's way past visiting hours."

His patience was wearing thin and there was a strange, almost rhythmic throbbing right behind his left eye. This whole situation was probably giving him an aneurysm. It wouldn't surprise him at all. Be the perfect end to the perfect evening. "Then why did you have me drive this way?"

"Cause the hotel's this way."

"You're going back to the hotel?" The words were tersely bitten off, gritted out between clenched teeth. "Why don't you just get room service then?"

"And pay twenty bucks for a crappy sandwich?" A roll of blue eyes followed that sarcasm laden question. "I don't think so."

"Just go get your food."

Dean opened the door but paused, eyes locking on his. "You want anything?"

Seth sighed heavily, his head falling back against the headrest. "For you to hurry up so I can drop you off at the hotel and be on my way to Memphis."

"Right, sure, I'll do just that." The dirty blonde's eyes narrowed then he exited the car, closing the door loudly behind him.

Another sigh escaped him. Great, just great. That had obviously come out of his mouth in a way he hadn't intended. But obviously his exhaustion and frustration had boiled over into his words. Now, knowing Dean like he did, he was going to take his time just to spite him.

Probably have a few drinks before he even placed his order.

Maybe some more after.

His aggravation grew every minute that he sat there with the engine running, waiting for his former brother to get back to the car. There was a part of him that was tempted to drive away and leave him there but he knew that would be a big mistake. Dean would do what he said he would do without the slightest hesitation. Probably even take selfies while doing it that he'd have Roman post. Not to mention that the way Seth's luck was going, he'd get pulled over and tossed in jail for not having his license on him.

Just when he was really starting to question if allowing a pissed off Dean in a place that served alcohol by himself was one of his more intelligent ideas, the dirty blonde emerged from the restaurant with two bags. He opened the back door, settled his purchases inside then shut the door, leaning into the window of the driver's side. "Scoot over, I'm driving."

"Uh…" He blinked owlishly, thrown off by the demand. "No, no you're not."

A gruff chuckle followed that response, "I think I am."

Seth rolled his eyes and held his ground, in no mood to be indulgent anymore than he had already been to his former brother. "Well, I really don't know why you'd think that since it's my rental car."

"Because that's what gonna happen if you ever wanna get your wallet back." A victorious smirk twisted his lips. "But if you don't then just say the word and I'll chuck it into the rancid smelling dumpster over there. Be a lot of fun for me to watch you go diving into that to find it."

Muttering curses under his breath, he pushed open the door and made his way around to the other side of the car. He ducked into the passenger side, pulling on his seatbelt harshly. Folding his arms over his chest, he threw a sneer at his tormentor, who looked entirely too comfortable as he got himself situated behind the wheel. "Can we just get this over with?"

"Sure thing princess." With that, Dean started the car and tore out of the parking lot at a speed that would make a race car driver nervous.

Seth quickly unfolded his arms, gripped the dashboard for dear life and pressed his feet into the floorboard as hard as he could. It had been a few months since he'd been in a car with the other man behind the wheel and he either forgotten or repressed the knowledge that he tended to drive like a damn maniac. Visions of past experiences were rapidly dancing before his eyes and his nails dug in deeper on the dashboard. "Slow down, I don't feel like joining Roman in the hospital!"

"Relax, nothing to worry about." A grin that wasn't the slightest bit reassuring spread across the lips of the mad man behind the wheel as he darted around a car that was moving too slowly for him. Thankfully, he didn't take his eyes off the road. "I'm only occasionally seeing double."

His heart started to pound in his chest as his head whipped in the direction of the other man. Did that mean that he'd passed time waiting for food by downing a few drinks? Or did it mean that he hadn't been cleared by his doctors and was still suffering effects from his concussion? "I-You-What?"

"I said, I'm only occasionally seeing…"

"I heard that part!" His words were rushed, tense and worry poured through them. "I just don't know what that means. That your way of saying that you've been drinking?"

"Nope."

That pit of dread spread through his stomach and he swallowed thickly as his worst fear was all but confirmed. He wiped his suddenly clammy palms on the thighs of his jeans and took a deep breath before he asked the question that he really didn't know if he wanted an answer to. "Y-y-you haven't been cleared by the Neurologist yet?"

No answer was forth coming, not that he really expected confirmation, as the car took a sudden, tight and terrifying sharp right turn into the parking lot of the hotel and screeched to a stop. The engine was cut then there was nothing to keep those cold blue eyes off of him now. Dean cracked his neck then gave him one of those slightly crazy looking smirks that he usually directed at him in the ring. "Get out of the car."

Seth's anxiety level rose at the cold tone being directed at him as he saw his former brother get out of the car and pocket the keys. He wet his lips but it didn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth very weakly as he slowly made his way out of the vehicle and tentatively shut the door on safety. "I mean, yeah, I have to get out. Obviously. You know, so I can get back into the driver's seat and you can give me back my wallet then be on my way to Memphis."

"Nah, we won't be doing that right now." Something flashed in those eyes. "Maybe later."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not tracking real well tonight huh?"

A mirthless chuckle escaped his mouth, "Well, it's been a night of surprises."

"Anyway, here's what's gonna happen." There was something heavy in that disconcerting steely blue gaze. "You're gonna come up to the room, eat the food I was considerate enough to get you and then, you and I are gonna have a little chat about the last few months."

"I got to get on the road."

"Oh, you will," That alarming smirk grew wider, "After we've had our conversation."

Seth really didn't want to have this conversation even though he knew that he owed answers to the other man. Not just for ripping away the only stability Dean had ever known but also why he decided to involve himself in the dirty blonde's recovery when he was the one who caused the injury. He just wasn't ready to say any of those answers out loud yet. Needed to think things through and come up with responses that wouldn't end up getting him punched.

But one look at his former brother and he knew that there was no way he was going to escape this situation without doing what the eccentric man wanted.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice how it goes down man." Dean straightened from his perpetual slouch, drawing himself up to his full height. He tilted his head slightly and cracked his knuckles before those hands curled into fists. "But either way, it is going down tonight."

"Fine, we'll talk about this but I want you to agree to something first."

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

"That no matter what, you'll let me talk." He held the other's unwavering man gaze. "No letting your temper get the better of you and hitting me before I'm finished."

The dirty blonde shrugged. "Long as hitting you ain't off the table completely, I can agree."

"Alright," With a resigned sigh, Seth nodded. "Then let's do this."


	13. Squandered

**Author's Note: So we've come to the end of the story. Maybe. I'm kicking around the idea of an epilogue for it but haven't made my decision yet. Anyway, thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed! Any outtakes and banners can be found on my blog, pm me if you're interested :)**

* * *

 _ **"Betrayal is never easy to handle and there is no right way to accept it." - Christine Feehan**_

* * *

 _September 22, 2014 1:15am_

Dean glared at his companion, gaze burning intensely as he watched him slowly pick through his salad before spearing a single fucking piece of some fancy type of lettuce with his fork. Blue eyes narrowed as he watched the two-toned traitor chew the leaf with exaggeratedly deliberate care. His fingers drummed agitatedly against the small table top, annoyance growing as the two-tones bastard repeated the agonizing steps but with a piece of grilled chicken this time. This had to be approaching the world record for longest time to consume a damn salad. It didn't take someone forty-five minutes to finish a bowl of lettuce, vegetables and about half a chicken breast.

Especially Seth. He had spent too much time with the other man not realize that this was not how he normally ate. It was nothing more than a stall tactic and a poorly disguised attempt at one at that. The so-called architect probably figured that by taking his sweet ass time that when he was finally done, Dean would say that it was too late for them to have this conversation. That he was free and clear to go on his way to Memphis and get to escape without being dragged down this pothole filled road.

Live to gloat about all the ways he'd screwed them over at the Smackdown tapings.

Too bad that wasn't going to happen.

Despite what some people said, which was mainly the authority and their little lapdogs, Dean wasn't crazy and he sure as hell wasn't stupid. He was used to people underestimating him and assuming that he was nothing more than a loose canon. Actually, he liked that they did and used it to his advantage. Because it was far from the truth as you could get. No, he wasn't a planner but there was nothing he wouldn't do to get what he wanted.

Seth should know that better than anyone but since he was drinking the authority's kool-aid, he had apparently forgotten that. There was no way in hell that he was going to allow the little weasel to slink away without answering for the things he did. After everything that happened, he was owed that much. He was through waiting and wondering, this was going to end now. That was why he still had possession of the sellout's car keys and wallet.

No way for the scumbag to get out of here without forking over some answers for those valuable commodities. If Seth tried to lie or just flat out ignored the questions then he had no problem chucking those items out of the damn window of this hotel room. Since his room faced the back of the building and there wasn't a lot of light there. Not a lot of pavement to be found back there either. Be a hell of a lot of fun to watch the other man have to root around in the dirt and shrubbery below in the murky darkness.

It would probably take him hours to find them, if he managed to pull it off at all.

Of course, that all depended on the golden boy surviving past the next couple of minutes. The longer it took him to finish that damn salad, the harder it was for Dean not to reach over, grab that fork and jam it into the traitor's neck. His fingers were twitching impatiently to do just that. It was taking all his willpower not to give into the urge. But he didn't know how much longer he could resist.

Clearing his throat pointedly, he smirked at the way his former stable mate tensed at the sound. Good. He should be worried about what was going to happen. Because there'd be no going easy once the questions started. "You about done with that?"

"Uh," Seth was practically squirming as he pushed his mainly eaten salad away. "I-uh-guess so."

He sat back, folded his arms across his chest and nodded curtly. "So go ahead and explain it to me man. Make me understand why the hell you've done the things you've done."

"I don't know if I can do that."

"Why?" His gaze narrowed, "You don't got a problem running your mouth in front of the camera's. Shouldn't be an issue when they're off."

"I meant that I don't know if I can make you understand."

"Try me."

The two-toned haired man flinched but took a deep breath and forced himself to make eye contact. Looked like it was the last thing he wanted to do. "I wish I could tell you that I had a better reason for breaking up the Shield than a guaranteed shot at the title, money and power but I don't."

"Yeah, I don't buy it." And he didn't because it was didn't make sense. Seth was talented, one of the best in the ring that he'd ever seen. He had the look and ability to make it on his own, without any help from the people in charge. "Doesn't feel right."

"Sorry but it's the truth." One shoulder raised in a lifeless motion of a shrug. "You know how many guys come through here and never make it past the mid-card? Or how many end up getting stuck in teams for the rest of their careers?"

"A lot of guys who were in teams or the mid-card went on to have win singles titles and have damn good careers. Would've been the same with us."

"It didn't feel like I was being noticed. Roman's got the look, you have the charisma. Between you two, I get lost in the shuffle. I didn't bust my ass to get here and not make it to the top."

"Neither did I." He chuckled, a bitter sound. "That was why everyone always assumed that I would be the one to break up the Shield. But if you wanted to go it alone, all you had to do was come and tell us."

"I was scared. I didn't want to risk coming to you guys and absolving everything only to fail on my own. I was terrified that they'd say that they didn't see me as a potential world champion but saw me as an intercontinental or tag team level guy. That would have crushed me."

"Guess you were worried about nothing."

"But then I was presented with the opportunity to have everything I ever wanted, everything I had worked for and I took it."

"And if you had it to do over again…"

There was a long, thoughtful pause. A million different emotions flickered across the younger man's face in that time. But he seemed to deflate and spoke the words that they had both been dreading. "If I was guaranteed the success then I'd probably do the same thing."

That hesitation before the answer had said so much. Dean felt like there was more there, a lot more, but he knew that he wouldn't get anywhere with that right now. Because it felt like Seth was still lying to himself or at least, denying the whole truth. Until he was ready to face it then they'd just keep going around and around. "Who's genius idea was it to drive my head through cinderblocks?"

Direct hit.

Seth seemed to pale slightly before he found his voice to answer. "I didn't come up with the idea."

"So who did?" His impatience was getting the better of him. "Triple H? Stephanie?"

"No."

"Kane?"

That really didn't even have to be answered verbally because the answer was written all over his face. But after a visibly rough swallow, he confirmed it aloud. "Yeah."

"And when he told you about it, you thought it was a great idea? Had you jumping for joy?"

"It wasn't like that."

"Then tell me how it happened and don't spare any detail."

"I was so tired of Triple H and Stephanie on my back about their plans and cashing in my contact. But you kept coming at me and screwing everything up. Kane said he had a way to get you off my back for a while but he never said what it was. So I agreed to it without really thinking about it or questioning what the plan was."

Dean shifted, hands curling into tight fists against his elbows. He wouldn't hit him yet. But he could feel that it was most likely going to happen at some point. "When did you find out about this brilliant idea?"

"A little while before Raw went on air." His coloring had turned slightly greenish. "He brought me out to ringside and showed me the set up, told me what to do."

"Ah, so that's when you thought it was the greatest idea since sliced bread."

"No," The architect looked nauseous. "I was horrified."

"You were horrified?" His hands were killing him from being clenched so tight. "If you were horrified, like you claim you were, you wouldn't have done it. You would have found a way to slither your way out of it like the snake you are."

Seth shook his head vehemently, "I didn't want to do it but I had to. It was too late to back out or take a different approach."

"But you did it Seth." Dean stated flatly, his calm words belying the anger coursing through his veins at that moment. "You stood on top of that announce desk and jumped, curb stomping my head into those cinderblocks without caring about what it could have done to me. Then you celebrated what you did and don't bother denying it because I've seen it on the net."

"I cared, a hell of a lot more than I wanted to." He proclaimed in a tone that shook. "But I couldn't let anyone know that. I had to act like it didn't matter, that everything was business as usual."

That earned a scornful laugh, "Didn't want to disappoint mommy and daddy? Wanted them to be proud of exactly how much of a pathetic, weak sheep they turned you into? Scared that they'd take it all away from you if you showed any remorse? Thought that since you had their backing to do it that you were in the clear."

"I didn't know what would happen once it was done." Seth sighed, "I wasn't thinking about anything like that. I was just trying to figure out how the hell it had come to that."

He leaned forward, thumbs tapping a frantic beat against his forearms. "So why did they end up punishing you for doing what they wanted? Surprised they didn't buy you a car or some other shiny fucking trophy."

"They didn't." The admission was quiet. "Vince is the one who suspended me the next day."

"But instead of scurrying away and hiding out, you showed up where I was." His lips twisted in a disdainful sneer, eyes hard. "Figured it was the perfect opportunity to finish me off, huh?"

Seth looked like he'd just been punched in the gut, "No!"

"Then why the hell were you there?"

"When Triple H told me that you were still in the hospital, that you hadn't regained consciousness, I started panicking. I kept thinking of the worst case scenarios." Hands trembled as they ran through his hair roughly, snagging in their haste. "I drove from Phoenix back to Las Vegas just so I could check on your condition for myself. It was going to be a quick thing, you'd never even know I was there. Then you woke up…"

"And you saw a way to turn the situation to your advantage." It left his mouth in hiss that bordered on savage and his fist connected with the tabletop, sending several of things on it crashing to the floor. "Bet it was so easy for you. Just pretend to be the good guy and help me recover from the injury you caused. Bide your time and wait for the perfect chance to stab me in the back again."

"It wasn't like that." The protest was quick, shrill. "I wanted to make up for what I did and that was the only way I could come up with to do it!"

Dean raised an eyebrow, "Oh please, mommy and daddy probably told you to do it."

"They had nothing to do with it."

"Uh-huh."

Seth shook his head, "I was suspended. That means that they really didn't care about me or what I was doing since I couldn't be of any use to them for thirty days. As far as they knew, I had gone back to Davenport or taken that vacation that Triple H encouraged me to."

"Fine, so maybe you did go rouge on this." He got to his feet and started pacing furiously, needing to burn off some of his adrenaline. "Figured it was good to know my condition so that you could use it against me the next time we stepped into the ring. Give you even more of an advantage than you already have."

"I told you, I did it because I regretted what I did." The younger man stated firmly. "I hated that I didn't have the guts to not go through with it. Made me sick that because of my actions, your life or career could be in jeopardy. So I wanted to do anything I could to help you through it, to make sure that you recovered completely and got back in the ring."

"You mean until I got my memory back." His pacing stopped and his head tilted as he assessed the other man. "Because you had to know that once I remembered what happened that things would've gone back to how they've been since that night you stabbed me in the back."

"I knew that but I figured that we'd cross that bridge when we came to it."

Dean licked his lips, sensing weakness. "Oh come on Seth, we both know that there was a part of you that was hoping that I'd never remember. Would've made everything a hell of a lot easier for you if that happened. I'd still think that you were my friend and my brother."

He blinked, obviously thrown by that logic. "That would have been worse."

"Really?"

"I'm always going to have to live with what I did, to the Shield but especially what I've done to you. There's no escaping that." Seth looked tired, resigned. "It'll live on in infamy long after I've retired thanks to the internet and the network. But if you never got your memory back then it would have been even worse to carry that around, to look at you and know that I destroyed your life. I don't know if I could have handled that."

Blue eyes narrowed and he resumed pacing. His mind was a war zone. He hated how genuine that rat bastard sounded. It also pissed him off that he wanted nothing more than to believe him. Accept that he was sorry and that he was sincere.

But he couldn't.

Because if he had learned anything over these last few months it was that Seth didn't have a sincere bone in his body. His loyalty, friendship and caring were nothing more than a carefully crafted façade. That beneath the nearly flawless act he was a manipulator through and through. Selfish and entitled. Someone that shouldn't be trusted or taken at his word.

"Listen," There was a sigh, "I'm not expecting you to forgive me or for us to go back to being friends. That bridge has been burned too many times. I just want you to know that there was no scheme or grand plan to screw you over again. I knew I messed up big time, regretted it and was just trying to do whatever I could to try to make things better. Just wanted to help anyway I could."

"I bet."

"It's true and I want you to know that."

He scoffed, "Life ain't always fair and we don't always get what we want."

The pigment drained from Seth's face when he said that. He looked stricken for some reason that he didn't understand. "You said in the car that you occasionally only still see double. Does that mean that you're not cleared? Are you still suffering with symptoms from the concussion?"

Ah, that explained it. Guilty conscience kicking in. Well, too bad for him. There was no way in hell he was going to divulge the fact that he was symptom free and cleared to resume regular activities. Right now, the mystery of his medical status was his greatest advantage in the battle against Seth and the authority.

"Why would I tell you that?" Dean retorted, "I mean, you're back with mommy and daddy, got your big red lapdog by your side. Makes you my enemy."

"Forget all that." His tone was almost pleading, "I'm not asking wrestler to wrestler."

"But that's all we are." He reminded the other man harshly. "You've said it yourself numerous times. We're not friends or brothers. Never were. All we are is former business associates which means that any conversation between us is just wrestler to wrestler."

"You know that's not true."

He chuckled mirthlessly, rolling his eyes. The bastard had spent the last few months driving the opposite point home every chance he got. How could he think that anything would have changed since earlier tonight. "No, I can't really say that I know that it's not true. Maybe once upon a time, I would've but not anymore."

Seth looked dejected but nodded an acceptance. "Ok, I guess that's fair."

Dean frowned, "Feels like there's something you're not saying. Might as well just spit it out Rollins. Don't think you'll have another chance to unburden yourself."

"I mean, you showed up at the arena tonight. Interfered during my promo and decided to get involved physically." He looked almost worried. "You just put yourself back on the authority's radar. If you're not cleared to come back and you're still injured, why the hell would you risk that?"

"You know me." His hand landed on his collarbone and started to drum a against it. "I've always liked poking the hornet's nest."

"This one, you should have left alone."

"Why?"

"Because they're not going to care if you're medically cleared or not. They're going to come after you and they're not going to stop until you've been permanently removed as a threat."

He grinned, sharp and savage, teeth practically bared. "Looking forward to seeing them try. They don't have what it takes to keep me down."

"Dean," Seth pinched the bridge of his nose, that troubled expression still on his face. "I know you think you're indestructible but you're not. Especially right now. Do what's best for yourself and don't show up to another show until you're cleared to return."

"Thanks for the fake concern but I'm a grown ass man who can take care of himself."

"I know you don't trust or believe me but…"

Dean cut him off unapologetically, "There is no but to that. I don't trust you. Period. I know that I can't believe you. Period. So I'll never make the mistake of trying to again. Period."

"I-"

"Given the chance, you wouldn't change the fact that you stabbed us in the back. You said yourself that you'd do it again if that meant you got to take the easy road." He laid it all out for him. "And yeah, maybe you were sorry for the whole curb stomping me through cinderblocks thing but you had weeks to confess the truth and you didn't. You kept your mouth shut or gave evasive answers."

Seth balked at that, "The doctors told us that you had to remember on your own."

"Ok, I'll give you that one." He studied his former friend carefully. "But after I did remember, you didn't make any attempt to reach out to me and explain yourself. If I hadn't forced your hand tonight, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

"If that was true then how would I know that you got your number changed again?" He looked victorious. "No one would've given me your new number either. So how could I get in touch with you?"

It was a good shot to take but unfortunately for the sellout, it missed the mark. "Nice try but I didn't get my number changed until last Friday, when I got tired of that damn receptionist from the Neurologists office calling me. Up until then, it was the same."

"Oh."

Dean shook his head tiredly, a part of him hating that the younger guy had proven him right in the end. He reached into his pocket, holding out the other man's wallet and car keys. "I think we've said all that needs to be said. You might as well get on the road to Memphis."

"Yeah, I guess that's it." Seth took his stuff and tucked them into the pocket of his hoodie, looking a little disappointed and sad. "Take care of yourself Ambrose and just consider what I said. No matter what you think, I really don't want see you get hurt again or have your career ended over this."

He followed him to the door but for some reason, he didn't close it right away after Seth stepped over the threshold even though he should have. Instead, he decided to do him one last favor as a former friend. "Hey, I know you think that you've got the golden ticket and that you're on the fast track to the top but you should really watch yourself carefully. Triple H, well, he's not exactly known for his loyalty to people. The second you've outlived your usefulness to him, he'll stab you in the back."

There was a shrug and an odd, fleeting smile. "It's not going to happen but thanks anyway."

With another shake of his head, Dean shut the door. He needed to get some sleep so he could get to the hospital nice and early to visit Roman. His gut told him that his brother was going to have his head for what he'd done.


	14. Karma

**Author's Note: Here's the epilogue! Thanks to all who read and those who commented.**

* * *

 _ **People pay for what they do, and still more, for what they have allowed themselves to become. And they pay for it simply: by the lives they lead. ~Edith Wharton**_

* * *

 _August 30, 2016- 12:15am_

Dean flopped down on the bed in his hotel room, an overly loud whoosh of air escaping his lungs as he shifted his tired body into a more comfortable position. It had been a long week and he couldn't wait until it was over tomorrow night. There was a fridge full of beer, a couple bottles of Jack and his big, comfortable bed just calling his name. He grabbed his phone to check his messages and was a little surprised to see a few from people on the Raw side of the roster. All of them basically telling him that he had to see what happened during the fatal four-way for the Universal title.

A frown twisted his lips because he had no idea why they thought that he'd care about what happened on the show or that title. In his opinion, it was a joke and his belt was the only real world title in the company. They only came up with a new championship because the powers that be couldn't stand the notion of not having access to the WWE title anymore. Instead of the fruit roll-up everyone on the red brand was vying for, they should have just allowed him to defend the title on both brands and save themselves the embarrassment. Not that he really wanted to be on Raw if he didn't have to because he was more than happy on SmackDown, far away from the tyranny of Stephanie McMahon and the naiveté of Mick Foley.

His narrowed eyes landed on the name of a buddy of his that wasn't in the business. Really didn't even watch wrestling. So the brief snippet of text that caught his attention and made him click on the message was strange coming from him.

 **"Man, you've got to watch this. Not often you get to see Karma in action."**

Under that was a you tube link.

That frown morphed into a look of confusion as he hit play and watched the last few minutes of the fatal four-way. Nothing seemed out of place at first. Triple H screwed over Roman and was obviously about to hand his golden boy his shiny prize. Then something unexpected happened. Instead of grabbing a barely conscious Kevin Owens and delivering a pedigree, Triple H kicked out at Seth and put him in his signature finisher.

Owens looked baffled for a couple of moments until Hunter indicated for him to cover the now former face of the authority. As the referee counted, Dean held his breath. He was waiting for Seth to kick out or for Triple H to turn on the so-called prize fighter. But it didn't happen. Owens hand was raised, he was announced as the new champion and Triple H stormed away without so much as an explanation for what happened.

He watched it again and again. Even paused and went back to certain portions. Trying to find a moment for that betrayal to make sense or even just to see it coming. There was nothing though. No matter how many times he watched that clip, the picture didn't get any clearer.

That was the thing about being betrayal. The one who got stabbed in the back could never understand the why's and how's. Couldn't fathom what had just happened. No explanation would really ever explain it away. Not even if the person on the receiving end of it wasn't exactly blind to the fact that it happening to them was a big possibility.

Dean hadn't seen it coming even though he should have. Wasn't the first time someone he trusted, that he had called family had betrayed him. It had been an established pattern in his life since he was child. But he'd foolishly let his guard down and trusted in Seth, his brother, his best friend. In the end, Seth decided that guaranteed success, power and money was enough reason to stab him in the back repeatedly and to prey on him when he'd been injured and vulnerable.

Now Seth was living through the same experience. Only it wasn't just a sense of family, of belonging that was being ripped from him though. All that silver platter handed success, that corrupting power and that ill-gotten loot was also being snatched from him leaving him vulnerable and alone. He would back to square one now. Having to scratch and claw to prove that he could make it back to the top without the help of his former Sugar Momma and Daddy.

He knew that he should enjoy this more than he did.

Should be cackling in delight that the traitor finally got what was coming to him.

While there was a part of him that was rejoicing in his former brother getting a taste of his own medicine, there was another part that almost felt bad for him. Because even though Dean had warned him that it would happen, Seth hadn't believed it. He seemed to really believed that this would be the one time the Triple H didn't turn on one of his protégé's. Figured he was safe because the devil didn't screw over those who willing sold their souls. Right now, he probably didn't understand how he's fallen victim to the older man's ruthless tendencies.

He'd have questions constantly going through his mind. Tormenting him. Driving him crazy. Making him desperate for answers, for revenge or some twisted combination of both. There'd be no peace until he got one or the other.

Dean knew that cycle better than just about anybody. After all, it had been his life for the last couple of years. It never got easier, the hatred and feeling of betrayal never dimmed. There was also an overwhelming sense of anger at yourself, for being stupid enough to trust someone. Those emotions threatened to take over all the time. Wanted to erupt and make you lash out any opportunity that you could.

So while he detested the urge, wished it would have shriveled up and died a long time ago, he almost wanted to reach other to Seth. Make sure that he was alright. Offer some advice. Listen to the younger man vent. Be the friend that he probably needed at this moment.

He hated himself for that impulse.

Just like he hated himself for still believing the things that Seth had said to him when he'd been recuperating from his head injury.

That final conversation in the hotel room, where Seth had said that he didn't regret the choices he made and would do them again had always rang hollow to him. Not in the sense that Seth had been lying to him but more so that the architect had been denying the truth of the matter to himself. That he needed to believe that he'd done what was best for him and that he felt like he thought that he wouldn't make it on his own. He had committed to the idea and was sticking it out until the end.

There'd been moments when it looked like Seth had started to rebel against those thoughts. Times when it seemed like he'd been eager to break away from the rigid control of the authority. When he'd deliberately go against what they wanted, pushed back and did things on his own. It really seemed like he was sick of being nothing more than a cog in the machine. That it would only be a matter of time before he broke free of that association once and for all.

Then Seth tore his knee to shreds and was on the sidelines for almost seven months.

Which put him out of commission. Gone but never forgotten unfortunately. He wouldn't allow himself to be, popping up every now and then for different functions. Spoke in interviews about how he was taking that time to redesign and rebuild himself into a better version so he could reclaim everything he had worked for. Made it sound like he was working on redeeming himself. That he saw the errors of his ways and was using his rehab time to fix things.

Promised that when he returned, we'd see a better version of Seth Rollins but it never happened.

If anything, he had regressed to the ass-kissing, scheming golden boy of the authority.

Dean had been disappointed but wasn't really surprised. He knew that injuries did strange things to people because he had been there. But they were even worse for people like Seth who over thought every aspect of his life. Having that time off would convince him that he needed that backing and their approval to reclaim what he'd lost over the months. Needed the praise and validation to silence the doubts and insecurities that plagued him.

Seth could never handle it if he wasn't number one. He really did his best to endear himself further to Stephanie and it worked. His reward was being moved to the front of the line to challenge Roman for the title. But he was never expecting for Dean to insert himself in the equation with a money in the bank victory and cash in. They entered into war again and it had felt good to come out on top, to take that gold away from the greedy man.

He was prepared for the war to rage on.

But the company split the roster.

Honestly, he wasn't disappointed at the outcome of that and it had felt better doing his own thing far away from the ghosts of betrayals past. He was doing really good on the blue brand. It was nice to have the support of Shane and Daniel. There was no way in hell that he wanted to get sucked back into any of that old drama again. Didn't want to rip open the scabs that would never fully heal and end up adding new ones.

So while he could almost feel bad for what happened, that was about it. He wouldn't act on the impulse to check up on things. When you had been burned and broken as many times as he had, you learned to fight back impulses that would only end up badly. There was no doubt in his mind that if he reached out to Seth, allowed him even a sliver of space to wedge himself back into his life that things would just end up going to hell again. It was better just to sit back and keep himself far away from a situation that had nothing to do with him.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of his phone that was still absently clutched in his hand. His eyes drifted to the display and he let out a relieved breath when he saw who it was then answered, "Hey Ro, what's up?"

"You know, same old shit." Roman sounded exhausted to his core. "Just wanted to check in with you. Felt like we haven't had as much time to do that now that we're different brands."

His lips twisted into a grin, "You mean, you wanted to see if I know what happened on the show tonight."

"No, I know someone would have sent you something about that. Hell, I was there living through it and have a ton of messages." There was a humorless chuckle. "I don't know man, I guess I'm just kind of struggling right now and needed to talk to my best friend."

That was easy enough to do because despite going head to head with Roman, they were as tight as ever.

"It sucks that Triple H fucked this up for you but you'll get other chances." Dean told him honestly. "Before you know it, that ugly ass fruit roll up that your brand is calling a championship will be off Kevin and around your waist again. Or you know, hanging off your shoulder in a way that pisses off the fans."

There was a weighted silence followed by a sigh. "Thanks for that but that wasn't what I was talking about. Yeah, I mean, it sucks that happened but I'm not really all that shocked. I figured that Hunter wouldn't be through screwing things up for me. And make no mistake about it, seeing that jerk Owens parading around with a title he didn't earn with Jericho pumping him up is annoying as hell but I can deal with it for now. "

He frowned, a little confused. "Then break it down for me brother cause I'm lost."

"This is going to sound so stupid and I know that, but I meant that I'm struggling with what happened to Seth." It sounded like it took a lot out of Roman to admit that. "He trusted Triple H for some reason and this was the result."

"Oh." He didn't want to deal with this, especially since he already decided that he was staying out of it.

"At first, I wasn't worried about it but then I saw him after the match. We passed each other in the hallway, I was heading out and he was finally making it back to the locker room and he just looked completely lost." The big dog sighed again. "Like he didn't really understand what happened or why."

Dean shifted, hand drumming anxiously against his collarbone. He really didn't want to be having this conversation. Clearing his throat, he pushed down the turbulent emotions he had been feeling since he watched the clip and concentrated on coming off as aloof about the whole situation. "Don't know why it's a surprise to him, everyone on the roster and in that audience knows what Triple H is like."

"I think Seth thought it would be different this time. That he'd proven his loyalty to them over the years."

"That's on him for not listening and watching his back."

"I guess but I'm thinking of giving him a call, see if he needs to talk."

That wasn't just talk. Roman would actually follow through with it and not just because they were on the same brand. Because deep down, he never stopped looking at Seth as his little brother and still cared about him. It was just the way the Samoan man was. All about family, no matter how shitty that family had been to him. There was always a second chance to be had in his eyes and he'd always give the opportunity to take it.

Instead of getting on the older man's cause about being a softy, he decided to go the play it straight route. "You sure you want to go there? Opening that can of worms might end up backfiring on you, especially if this is some contrived plan of the authority's to screw you over."

"Don't think this is."

"Even if it's not, it'll probably still backfire." He really wanted to stress that fact to the older man, make him understand that things weren't always black and white.

"It might not." It was almost painful how hopeful Roman sounded. "Could be the first step in finally making things better."

Dean gave a noncommittal hum in response.

"I mean, at least we had each other when our world was shattered." His tone was so disgustingly sincere. "I think in order to get perspective and come to grips with what happened to him, Seth's going to need someone to talk to. Reaching out to him would let him know that he's not alone, that there are places for him to turn if he needs them."

He chewed on the side of his thumbnail and gave another indistinguishable hum instead of saying that Seth would probably turn to him, with another steel chair across the back.

"If it went well and he's open to the idea, then I figured that maybe we could make plans to meet up and talk." There was a very significant pause and he knew that he wasn't going to like whatever was said next. "All three of us. Like next week after Smackdown."

No, absolutely not.

"Ro, listen, if you feel like you want to reach out to him and let him back into your life then I won't stop you man." Dean took a deep breath. "But I don't want to be involved."

"I get it man and trust me, I know you have a hell of a lot more reasons than I do to hold a grudge against him for everything…" He trailed off tiredly. "But it's been almost two years since all that went down. Don't you think it would be better for the both of you to sit down and talk about everything?"

"We said everything we needed to say in a Nashville hotel room."

"Things were different then because everything was still so fresh." Roman countered smoothly, his tone imploring. "It had only been a could of months since the Shield ended and a couple of weeks after you got your memory back. Not nearly enough time for tempers to settle down."

He laughed mirthlessly at that, "You forget that he was the reason that the Shield split and the reason that I lost five weeks of my life to a major concussion and memory loss?"

"I haven't forgotten…"

It was clear in his tone that there was more to it than he was saying. That he was hedging on finishing that because he was worried about how it would be received. "But?"

"I forgave him."

Dean's eyes widened at that. "What?"

"I had to." Roman informed him. "I'm not saying that I condone or understand why he did the things he did or the ways he did them. Because I don't and never will. But being angry, hating him, holding onto all of that, it took too much from me."

His hand clenched so tightly into a fist that his knuckles turned as white as the sheets on the bed. "It took too much from you?"

"It's takes too much energy to be angry and hold a grudge against someone. Too consuming and detrimental to your own happiness. It's stifling and childish."

"You think I don't have a right to feel how I feel about him?" His blood was boiling over that description. "That I'm just being an immature asshole?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying."

"Then what are you saying Ro?" The question was a growl.

"I believe that to him, turning on us was the only way he thought that he could get ahead. That it wasn't personal but a business decision."

"Wow, so does the same logic apply to what he did to me?"

"What he did to you, driving your head into those cinderblocks was stupid and reckless, completely disgusting but he did try to help you, even though the way he went about it was questionable at best."

He rolled his eyes so hard that it almost hurt. "He took advantage of the fact that I had short-term memory loss and didn't remember that he was a lying, manipulative snake!"

"Like I said, his method left a lot to be desired but he made sure that you did what the doctors said and made a full recovery."

"So what?" Dean tossed out bitterly. "That mean that I'm supposed to be thankful to the prick? Give him a free pass on being the one who was responsible for it? Forget everything I went through?"

"No but-"

"I'm not saying that you weren't worried or didn't check up on me but I am saying that it's easy for you to forgive him because you weren't the one who had to live through it. I was."

Roman's tone was contrite, "I know."

"No, you really don't!" His counter was heated, his temper flared. "You weren't the one who had to sit in his house everyday, not allowed to do anything because he was fighting concussion symptoms. You didn't forget six months of your life because of memory loss. You also weren't the one wondering what the hell he was going to do with his life if he didn't recover, trying to figure out what kind of job a high school drop-out could get. That was all me!"

"I…"

"Yeah, Seth finally sunk his claws into you when you got suspended, said some nasty things but it doesn't even come close to the shit he's said and done to me for over two years." Dean sagged back against the mattress, emotionally exhausted. "So go ahead and try to be his friend, his brother, again. Don't expect me to follow your lead. Because I don't forgive him and there's no reconciliation for him and I anytime in the near future."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you to get involved in this." Roman sounded like he'd been punched in the gut. "I should have taken your feelings into consideration, looked at the whole picture before I even mentioned this to you."

He huffed in response.

"It's late, you've got Smackdown in a few hours." It sounded like the words were rushing out of the Samoan's man mouth. "I'll let you go. Good night and kick some ass!"

"Yeah, night." His thumb hit the end button with a little more force than necessary.

Dean got out of bed, pacing the room to burn off the excess anger and frustration that swirled through him.

No matter what, he knew that he made the right decision for himself. There was no reason to forgive Seth for the things he'd done or try to reconcile just because he'd finally gotten a small taste of his own medicine. Because he had a feeling that the experience wouldn't change anything. Seth wasn't going to change his ways or suddenly revert to being the person he'd been before the first betrayal. He'd never apologize for things that happened in the past, just pretend that they never happened.

There was no way that Dean would even begin to consider the idea of forgiveness until he got an honest apology from the traitor. Not one that came because Seth was at a low point in his life. Wouldn't consider one that Roman pushed him to make. Definitely not one that he offered up to escape a beating. It had to be genuine, done because he actually regretted the things he'd done.

That wasn't asking too much.

It was the least he was owed after everything he'd been through.


End file.
